


One Way or Another

by bistiles (alis)



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Catfish - Freeform, Derek Hale is Bad at Feelings, Derek Has Issues, Derek lies, Erica Reyes & Stiles Stilinski Friendship, Erica and Lydia make an amazing team, Implied Scott McCall/Isaac Lahey - Freeform, Lydia Martin & Stiles Stilinski Friendship, M/M, Miscommunication, POV Derek Hale, POV Stiles, Stiles is an idiot, stiles lies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-11
Updated: 2015-01-24
Packaged: 2018-03-07 04:37:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 22,181
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3161486
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alis/pseuds/bistiles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek thought he had the perfect plan to get past Stiles' defenses and know him better: by making an account on an online RPG Stiles' plays, and getting closer to him.</p><p>Except Derek is an idiot, Stiles is just as bad as Derek, and everything goes wrong.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> **Trigger Warning: this fic has as theme catfishing.**
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> • Catfishing •  
> "The phenomenon of internet predators that fabricate online identities and entire social circles to trick people into emotional/romantic relationships (over a long period of time).
> 
> Possible motivations: revenge, loneliness, curiosity, boredom
> 
> The term catfishing was inspired by the 2010 documentary "Catfish." (Urban Dictionary)
> 
> Proceed with caution.
> 
> [Please, don't post this work anywhere outside AO3, be it Goodreads or any other website]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In all honesty, if Derek’s infatuation for Stiles baffled him, it wasn’t supposed to be all that much of an issue. It didn’t seem like a hardship to get Stiles. Derek knew he was good looking: he had eyes, he had a mirror, and he wasn’t stupid. Even if Derek was one for deluding himself this badly, he grew up hearing people making comments about how he looked, so much Derek became slightly uncomfortable with his own appearance—after Kate, he saw it as nothing but a curse. He maybe had stopped having this particular line of thought, but still.
> 
> Derek was also aware he had enough game to woo the pants off anyone if they wanted. He was a good conversationalist when he wanted to be, and if he maybe had a lot lacking in the social skill department, he made up for it with his looks.
> 
> All that said, Derek had a problem. A huge problem. Because no matter what, Stiles didn’t seem not even one bit into Derek

Derek never expected to crush on Stiles, of all people. It wasn’t that Stiles was ugly—objectively speaking, Stiles was attractive, even for those that weren’t in for the geek-ish type. He had appeal, with his dorkiness, moles and cupid’s bow lip. Derek could see it, Stiles’s attractiveness, but that was never Derek’s type. For one, Derek always preferred girls - he might have spared a thought or two for a guy here and there, but it was never a real thing, never something that grew past of that: a thought. He preferred soft curves and plump lips, he loved the weight of breasts on his palm, the wetness of their desire. Women had always been Derek’s main source of desire; men, just a fleeting spark, almost on this side of curiosity. 

For another, Stiles was the epitome of everything that Derek tried to avoid in a person: chatty, hyperactive, annoyingly sarcastic. He seemed to organize his thoughts by thinking, his jokes were borderline mean at times, and he held absolutely nothing back when in an argument. It made Derek want to strangle him with his bare hands; mostly because it was annoying, and at times because Stiles heavily reminded Derek of Laura. 

Except all rules had been subverted, because everything that Derek thought he knew about himself and held as truth, didn’t quite meet how he really was. There was no denying that Derek Hale was completely crushing on Stiles Stilinski. Not even to himself. 

Maybe especially to himself. 

It didn’t help that Stiles had finally grown up. Not so physically, though that also happened, but there was a new found confidence that had only barely begun to appear when he was finishing high school. It felt like Stiles had finally grown into himself, filled the space of who he was meant to be, and that somehow made the tiny (and inappropriate) torch Derek carried for Stiles since he was just a high schooler, become a full fire. 

In all honesty, if Derek’s infatuation for Stiles baffled him, it wasn’t supposed to be all that much of an issue. It didn’t seem like a hardship to get Stiles. Derek knew he was good looking: he had eyes, he had a mirror, and he wasn’t stupid. Even if Derek was one for deluding himself this badly, he grew up hearing people making comments about how he looked, so much Derek became slightly uncomfortable with his own appearance—after Kate, he saw it as nothing but a curse. He maybe had stopped having this particular line of thought, but still. 

Derek was also aware he had enough game to woo the pants off anyone if they wanted. He was a good conversationalist when he wanted to be, and if he maybe had a lot lacking in the social skill department, he made up for it with his looks. 

All that said, Derek had a problem. A huge problem. Because no matter what, Stiles didn’t seem not even one bit into Derek. 

It wasn’t that Stiles wasn’t physically attracted to Derek;he was, and it was fairly obvious. However, no matter what Derek tried, Stiles seemed always more prone to fight Derek than anything. Even the most innocuous conversation could escalate to full screaming matches of epic proportions. 

It wasn’t hyperbole at all. Derek still remembered the debacle over pizza at one of the pack nights—it ended with Scott dragging Stiles home, because Stiles got so furious, that he seemed really close to physical violence. Derek would ever hurt Stiles, not even if provoked. But oh god, did Stiles try his patience). It was infuriating beyond reason, frustrating to the point of being unbelievable, but the fact remained that Derek was still stupidly attracted, and Stiles, sadly oblivious. 

It seemed like, while Stiles was fully appreciative of Derek’s appearance, he loathed who Derek was. Which well, ouch. 

The solution came on accident. It all started with Isaac borrowing his laptop to test out some new game. Contrary to popular belief, Derek did known how to use a computer; he was just not fond of them. Still, he had gone out of his way and bought some technological monstrosity that was unbelievably expensive, but apparently worth every penny he paid for it. Ironically enough, his laptop had been Stiles’ suggestion. 

Maybe not so much a suggestion, as a conversation Derek overheard about what Stiles wanted to buy for himself, and Derek went ahead and bought it, on the hopes he would impress Stiles enough so they could talk. It did impress Stiles, but it never led anywhere, except for Stiles complaining loudly about people without the skills and needs buying over-the-top technology. 

Derek’s life was hard. 

So Derek didn’t mind lending his laptop to Isaac; Isaac didn’t have a laptop of his own, and while he had offered to buy him one, Isaac had politely declined, saying it wasn’t necessary. There was still a weird tear in their relationship ever since Derek pushed him away, a wall carefully constructed by Isaac to keep Derek at bay. Derek understood it, the wall and the distance. It hurt to see his former beta so distant and reserved, but Derek understood that was the price to pay for his mistakes. One day, maybe, Derek would do enough to repair the damage and it would be better. Maybe. 

So he lent his laptop and let Isaac play to his heart’s content, idling around his loft while Isaac had his fun. Derek rarely ever used it anyway; he never understood the appeal of staying online doing nothing for hours. Social networks were a sad concept when one didn’t have past friends or family to contact. It grew boring fast, not when all he had to do was browse Youtube or read random Wikipedia articles. Granted, he could go out of his way and try to rebuild some of his long lost social life, but it seemed a wasted effort. So Derek barely ever used his laptop andprobably proved Stiles’ point about wasted technology. Oh well. 

Several hours later, Isaac gave him his laptop back, softly thanked Derek and left the loft. Derek’s heart clenched as the door closed. He missed having Isaac around all the time, missed his pack, but that was past and things changed. He could adapt. He always did. 

So he booted his computer up and was ready to do nothing until sleep came, when a little pop-up appeared above the operational system clock, followed by a ding. He frowned at it. He had no idea what that was, had never seen it before, but all he had to do was click on it to find out. So he did. It only took a look for Derek to realize what it was: a chat window of sorts, that apparently Isaac had left open. 

**(00:15AM) batboyoverlord:** hey scarfboy, if u r on, come back 2 play

 **(00:16AM) batboyoverlord:** we r plannin a raid for the nxt mission

 **(00:16AM) batboyoverlord:** have u seen the rewards?!

 **(00:16AM) batboyoverlord:** it gives 500xp + 2. 5K in gold!

 **(00:17AM) batboyoverlord:** also some sweet equipment

 **(00:17AM) batboyoverlord:** I totally need a new sword

 **(00:18AM) batboyoverlord:** isaac?

 **(00:18AM) batboyoverlord:** cmon dude i can c u on

Derek blinked at the onslaught of constant messages for a moment, slightly overwhelmed by it. Isaac had probably forgotten to uncheck the “Remember Me” option for the game, and when Derek turned his computer on again, it automatically logged into Isaac’s account. He was about to close the program and ignore the annoying _batboyoverlord_ \- what kind of nickname was that?, when another message called his attention. 

**(00:19AM) batboyoverlord:** im not above blackmail

 **(00:19AM) batboyoverlord:** do the mission w me or im telling scott u r not making an effort to strengthen the pack bonds

 **(00:20AM) batboyoverlord:** or worse

 **(00:20AM) batboyoverlord:** ill cock block u ;)

It was then that Derek realized that it was Stiles. Stiles was the only one in the pack that was enough of an asshole to blackmail someone into playing video game with him. In fact, Derek was sure he was not joking, little winking emoticon aside. Stiles was that kind of guy. 

Derek almost let the laptop fall in his haste to answer him. He then stopped, because he had absolutely no idea what to say. What should he say? Telling Stiles that it was Derek would only lead to an okay and Stiles closing the game chat. d If Derek’s goal wasto actually get Stiles to talk to him without it becoming some sort of prelude tothe World War III, he needed something else. He let his fingers hover over the keyboard, thinking. 

Stiles and Isaac played that game. Stiles was chatty about video games. If Derek joined them playing that, maybe Stiles would talk to him. Maybe being the operative word. 

The planning wasn’t all that complex, but it seemed solid, and Derek was desperate enough to go and try. Probably the plan wasn’t all that solid, but the despair was very real, and totally enough to get Derek into going with it. 

He closed the chat window and logged out Isaac’s account before signing up an account for himself, and getting back online. He had nothing better to do in the creepy silence of his own apartment, and the night was young. He might as well kill time playing. . . whatever game it was and if that could (maybe) get him closer to Stiles? It was a bonus, right?

It wasn’t anything creepy. 

Or was it?

The game was some MMORPG; Google told him. He had then to Google what MMORPGs ever were, because Derek had no idea. He knew what RPGs were; he did have a console growing up, an old SNES that he would fight Laura tooth and nail to play. She liked fighting games and platform games, and she was really good on the first type, incredibly bad on the second. Derek, though, was really good in platform games; he was way better than Laura, and he always argued that he should be Mario, since he was better. Derek was forever relegated to being Luigi though. 

However, the other genre Derek enjoyed was, surprisingly, RPGs. He liked the stories —they made Derek think they were interactive books, and he always loved books. He only stopped playing the games when his friends back in middle school had told him RPGs were boring. Peer pressure worked wonders when you were just twelve and starving social interaction outside the family circle. 

Derek smiled sadly at the memory. What he wouldn’t give for family interaction now. 

He shook himself out of memory lane; it did him no good. As it was, the game was interesting enough to hold Derek’s attention, and so he carefully constructed his character. He knew better than to just do a lame job —Stiles would judge him if he did. At any rate, he was a bit amazed, intimidated at all the options and possibilities the game offered. Derek took his time creating his character, analyzing specs, races and jobs, completing a few missions, just to get the hang of it. He used to be a methodical player. Ironically, that did not reflect Derek's penchant for real life decisions he didn't think through. 

After he was satisfied enough with his choices, Derek decided to contact Stiles. He still remembered both Stiles and Isaac’s nicknames and quickly sent them friend requests. He was immediately greeted by a in-game chat window popping on his screen. 

**(03:47AM) batboyoverlord:** do i know u?

And that was when Derek panicked. He hadn’t thought this thoroughly, he hadn’t really thought about how to explain to Stiles that he was playing a video game, when he had never shown any interested towards games. Stiles would probably laugh if Derek ever told him about his Super Nintendo, for God’s sake. Was Stiles even born when a SNES came out? He wasn’t sure. Granted, their age gap wasn’t all that massive, just few years, but suddenly it seemed too much. Derek had always declined invites for Xbox pack nights, merely because the only one time he did go, he ended up having a fight with Stiles. He didn’t do video games, his last gaming experience was more than ten years old, and yet there he was, playing it at almost 4AM just to get to Stiles.

What was his life. 

The chat window pinged again and Derek snapped out his own internal freaked out. 

**(03:50AM) batboyoverlord:** dude if ur not a bot, say it bc im reportin ur ***

Derek had no idea what a bot was, and the three *** made absolutely no sense, but reporting didn’t look good, so he answered. 

**(03:51AM) chevyc10:** I’m not a bot. 

He hesitated. What would he do? What would he say? How could he escape Stiles’ judgement?

 **(03:51AM) chevyc10:** And you don’t know me. 

Derek winced as soon as he hit enter. He also groaned out loud. By doing that, he pretty much hindered any chance of getting to know Stiles better. He almost closed the entire game, giving up that stupid idea, when the window pinged again

 **(03:52AM) batboyoverlord:** ah k, u weren’t answerin

 **(03:52AM) batboyoverlord:** ur a noob what do u want?

 **(03:53AM) batboyoverlord:** im not givin u gold or items

Trust Stiles to be an asshole even when playing games. What was wrong with him? Better yet, what was wrong with Derek to be attracted to such a jerk? He growled low and typed in answer. 

**(03:53AM) chevyc10: I don’t want your gold or items.**

**(03:53AM) chevyc10:** Are you always this charming to people messaging you?

 **(03:54AM) batboyoverlord:** wow chill sweetcheeks

 **(03:54AM) batboyoverlord:** u still lvl 5. i thought u just wanted to bother me. 

**(03:54AM) batboyoverlord:** r u new to the game?

Breathing in deep, Derek thought about it. He couldn’t tell Stiles he was himself anymore. It would end up and another fight, this time so awkward Derek couldn’t even properly imagine it. But maybe. . . Maybe he could get to know Stiles better. Stiles was not exactly friendly with people, but he was considerably less combative than he was with Derek. Maybe that could be enough. Derek knew he had somewhat of bad history with Stiles; it made things between them difficult. There was some degree of immediate dislike that always surfaced in non-life threatening situations, making it impossible for them to grow close. So maybe all Derek needed was to break down those walls and try a different approach. 

He could do some undercover work, become online friends with Stiles, and then use his knowledge to get closer to Stiles in real life. It wasn’t really malicious, and he wasn’t doing any harm. He was just giving himself the chance Stiles never seemed to. If he had something to work with, he could go and try to finally get close to Stiles. 

Yes, that was plausible enough. Wasn’t it?

Derek exhaled slowly and carefully replied to Stiles’ message. 

**(03:56AM) chevyc10:** Yeah, I am. Sorry, I’m just a bit lost, I guess. 

**(03:56AM) chevyc10:** I was just wondering, maybe we could team up and you could help me out?

 **(03:57AM) chevyc10:** I mean, if you want to. 

Derek waited his answer, nervously tapping his thigh with his hand. He sounded too formal. He had to work on that, because he knew no one actually typed whole words and sentences. It probably stuckout like a sore thumb. 

Stiles was taking longer than usual to reply, which made Derek downright paranoid. Had he found out? Did he think Derek was a weirdo? Come to think of it, Derek was a weirdo. What he was doing was proof of it. 

**(04:05AM) batboyoverlord:** sure. 1st lets lvl u up. then off to make some money

Derek smiled. It was going to be fine. 

**-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-**

It wasn’t fine. 

It was probably as far from fine as anything could possible be in life, and Derek was freaking out. 

When he started that stupid undercover plan of sorts, he hadn’t anticipated a few things. Like how apparently Stiles not only liked chevyc10 a lot, but how he wanted to know him better. Or how their gaming sessions would become a nightly fixture, and then morph into Skype sessions. Or how Derek had never anticipated Stiles would ask for a damn picture of him. When he did, Derek had freaked out for five minutes solid, before hopping into Google and finding some guy’s face that Derek imagined it would be attractive enough for Stiles: some nerdy type, thick-rimmed black glasses, a beanie, plaid shirt. Much like Stiles, actually. Derek knew that Stiles was physically attracted to Derek’s body, but Stiles struck him as the type of person to go for guys like himself. Derek would die before admitting, but it made him so very bitter. 

The picture worked, though, better than Derek anticipated, because the next thing he knew, Stiles was sending a photo of him back: smiling, hair it’s usual bird nest, wearing a faded lacrosse t-shirt. 

“So you feel less awkward about it”, Stiles messaged next, making Derek’s stomach burn with that all-too-familiar guilt. Plus, it didn’t help that Derek thought Stiles looked, well, hot. There was no other word for it, not when a simple picture was making Derek slightly uncomfortable in his pants, something he was equal parts mortified and thrilled about. Stiles looked so hot, Derek might have lost temporary control over his fingers and told Stiles what he thought. It was downright terrifying, but too late. Enter had been pressed; message was sent. Then, to put a self-loathing nail in the pure guilt coffin, Stiles responded positively to the praise by sending another picture of himself, apparently taken right that moment, this time looking up at his lashes, a flirtatious smile playing on his lips. Derek didn’t even know Stiles could look like that, and he wasn’t even sure how to respond. 

Except by acknowledging he was screwed. Royally so. 

Derek actually had no idea how he managed to keep up his facade for so long. Things dragged along for almost two months. Two fast, unplanned months. Derek never expected it to last this long, but it did. In hindsight, he should have thought that getting Stiles to befriend him would take time. The thing was, it didn’t. It was fast, and from there the friendship quickly developed into something more. That was pretty much what all Derek ever wanted. 

Well, it would be what Derek wanted, except for the tiny part where Stiles wasn’t aware that the person he wanted was actually Derek. 

There surely was a special place in hell for people like Derek. 

Still, Derek kept going, mostly, because he had no idea what else to do. Though that wasn’t exactly true. Derek did know he knew he had the option of ending the farce at any moment, but he couldn’t bring himself to, not when, for once, he actually had Stiles’ attention as he wanted. He knew what he could do, he just didn’t have an option he actually wanted to go through. Namely a way out where he ended up with Stiles and got away with what he was doing. 

Derek was fully aware that it said a lot about himself that he was putting his own selfish desires before anything else, Stiles included. When he realized that small piece of knowledge about himself, shame didn’t even start to cover what he felt. Derek felt so awful about himself he managed to stay away from Stiles and the internet for three whole days, before he caved in. 

In the end, Derek had to accepted he was, indeed, a terrible person, with no compunction whatsoever. 

There was a price to pay, though. Derek soon found out that keeping that kind of lie was hard. It never never stopped with one little lie, a simple made up name or random image sent. No, to fool someone in the way Derek was fooling Stiles, demanded work, and it was incredibly tiring. He had to keep lying to maintain the game and he had to remember said lies. It was difficult. 

Keeping a lie for long meant remembering what he said, small things, details that Derek had to make up on the fly, and that three weeks later, he had no idea how to hold to them. He ended up keeping as close to the truth as he possibly could without giving himself away. The sad part was, as long as he changed a couple of names, Stiles would never find out, because Stiles barely knew the first thing about Derek’s life. 

If all started with Derek pretending he didn’t know Stiles, two weeks later he had a fake name (Aaron), fake age (22, same as Stiles), fake address (New York City). He had a fake life and fake friends. He was faking attendance to college, pretending to be a Architecture student, when, in reality, he had wanted to be one, back in New York City. Derek made up brothers and a living family. 

He had no idea how he managed, no idea how he made Stiles believe him when he said he wasn’t up for video chat, because he didn’t feel comfortable. Or how his mobile was an old model, so he didn’t have Snapchat, and how Derek justified having that much of an old model by saying he was broke and had been robbed. Derek lied, and pretended, and deceived. He couldn’t believe Stiles believed him and kept trusting Derek, opening up about his life. It was, sometimes, so worrying that Stiles was naive enough to trust a virtual stranger with himself in that way, especially when Stiles was so smart. It worried Derek, and it ashamed him, because Derek was exactly the type of person Stiles should avoid at all cost. 

Still, he never stopped. One day, Derek was desperately browsing for another vague enough picture of himself - or better, of Aaron, who he made Aaron be - when the loft’s door slid open. It was never really locked; Derek could smell the pack coming anyway, and, if it was an enemy, he would listen for them way before they arrived, though a door would probably not deter them any way. Erica walked in, high heels clicking loudly on the floor. Derek raised his eyes from his image search, quickly minimizing the window. It wound up to be excellent thinking, because Erica marched straight towards him and plopped herself beside him on the couch unceremoniously. 

“Hey there, Derek." Erica said, leaning in to kiss his cheek. He offered the side of his face, letting her mark his skin with her sinful red lipstick, before turning to kiss her on the forehead. She smiled broader for a moment, before wiggling herself into a more comfortable position."What are you doing?”

Erica was somewhat pack still - even if without his alpha status, she was actually under Scott’s pack. Derek’s own position in McCall’s pack was somewhat uncertain. Still, she was always around, and, for that alone, Derek was grateful. 

Exactly for that reason, Erica knew him better than most. So Derek kept his face schooled and calm. His heartbeat remained constant. He shrugged one shoulder. 

“Nothing. Wasting time."

Erica mhm’ed in agreement and turned to look at him. Derek glanced at her before looking at his inconspicuous, white New Tab page. Google search looked back. Erica kept staring. Intensely. 

“What." He barked, after a few seconds. He could feel himself sweating under her unnerving gaze. Derek knew that Erica wanted something, and that she was going to take her sweet time getting there. 

“Nothing." She sing-sang, lips stretching in a dangerous smile. Derek scowled at her. 

“It’s never nothing with you, Erica, and I can hear it when you’re lying. Spill it." 

“I’m just wondering. . ." Erica answered, twirling a golden lock of hair with her index finger. 

Derek was good controlling his features and heartbeat. No one would survive childhood and teenage years in a house full of werewolves without developing some high level of control over themselves. It was necessity and second nature, but it served for nothing. Maybe it was the fake blasé air she projected. Maybe it was the barely hidden malevolence coiled under her skin, but Derek’s heart rate went up for some reason. He mentally winced, because he knew Erica could hear that, and she made sure to smirk at him, to let him know so. 

“Wondering what, ” Derek said without inflection, trying to betray nothing. Erica’s face let him know he failed miserably. 

“That you’ve never been much of a computer guy, you know? I mean, damn, we had to put up a fight for you to make a Facebook, and you still log into it like, one time every ten days or something."

“So?”

“So I’ve noticed that while you’re not much into Facebook, or any other social media for that matter, you’ve been spending an awful lot of time on your computer.”

Erica was onto something, and they both knew it. Derek licked his lips, feeling his mouth dry. Erica’s eyes were slightly hooded in a way that Derek long ago learned that meant trouble. Big trouble. 

They stared at each other, and Erica’s smile was all teeth. Feeling like prey wasn’t something Derek often experienced , and he bristled under his passive mask. It then occurred to him that either Erica was determined to find out what he was doing or. . . 

Or she already knew. 

Derek went to close the laptop’s lid, when Erica clucked her tongue and put her hand to stop him. It was a sudden, bold move, and Derek tried to stare her down, but she seemed unfazed. 

“You shouldn’t close your laptop like this, ” She said in a motherly tone that creeped Derek out, “Especially when you have your game open, Derek. It’s rude to other players to drop out like that.”

Derek felt cold all over. How did she even know about the game? It wasn’t open at that moment; he never showed his desktop, nothing. No one knew about the game. And if Erica was saying that, it only meant one thing. Erica, in fact, knew. 

Cold sweat broke on his skin, making Derek feel gross and uncomfortable. He didn’t bother hiding his erratic heartbeat anymore, not when it was a futile effort. 

“How." It wasn’t a question, or a demand, it was mostly Derek’s increasing desperation encompassed in one word. 

Erica shrugged, seeming unfazed. 

“Oh, Der-bear, you’re not a very good liar, you know?” Erica chuckled and took the laptop from Derek’s hands. He could have stopped her, but there was no point."There’s something called reverse image search. Tracking IP addresses. Verifying background information. I mean, you were good for awhile; I’m surprised at your thinking. Very sly. But you should have considered something."

Derek swallowed, feeling his throat constricting something painful. This was it. He been caught. He got caught, . Erica would tear him to pieces, and good God, he didn’t even want to imagine about Stiles. 

“What?”

Erica smirked and turned the laptop back to Derek. She typed with her red-painted nails and opened a cloud storage website. There there were several folders, each named differently, each making Derek’s horror grow more and more: Skype talks, images, audio files, video files. Everything was saved. Everything. 

“That Stiles is a better liar than you are."

**-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-**

Derek had never been more scared in his life. Ever since Erica appeared, gleefully telling him she knew he was deceiving Stiles, Derek didn't move from the couch. He thought about explaining himself, but he didn't know how—he wasn't even sure if it was worth anything. What would he say? ‘Yes, I tricked Stiles and made him believe I was someone else, because I wanted to know more about him and have a chance in wooing him?’ It was a feeble excuse, and Derek knew it. 

He was screwed. He was so screwed, especially when he thought of all pictures Stiles sent him, some of them pretty NC-17. Stiles would be furious when he found out that those went to someone he didn't intend. Derek curled into himself, feeling awful. What had he done?

“I honestly expected better from you, Derek." Erica was typing on her mobile, and though her words were directed at Derek, her eyes remained fixed on her screen. 

Derek didn’t say anything. He didn’t know what to say. His throat felt clogged with shame, too much for him to get any word past all layers of guilt. 

“Do you have anything at all to say on your defense, or you just thought you would play a sick joke on Stiles and nothing would happen?” Erica amended, raising an eyebrow. She was still looking at her screen, and Derek wondered what she was doing. Was she telling the entire pack about it?

He never thought how the pack would react , because he never expected to get caught. Now that he had, he was painfully aware that his actions could drive him to into even more of a feud with the pack. Scott would obviously side with Stiles, and rightly so. Isaac would follow Scott’s lead. Erica seemed weirdly calm about it all, but he didn’t doubt she wouldn’t support him on this. Lydia would probably eviscerate Derek for what he did, and he not only believed her capable of doing it, but he thought she was entitled to. 

Then there was Stiles. Oh god, Stiles. 

“It wasn’t a joke." Derek managed to say at last, looking anywhere but Erica. He couldn’t deal with whatever expression she was carrying. 

She made a small noise of acknowledgment. Derek plunged on, battling for words. 

“I… I thought I could befriend him."

“By lying your ass off about who you are?” Erica asked, finally looking up from her phone. She rested her hands on her hips, looking weirdly matronly in that position."God help me, but what kind of friendship were you expecting to strike here?” 

What indeed. The idea of collecting information never sounded so stupid before. How could he tell her he did it because he had feelings for Stiles? The mockery alone would be too much. 

Deserved. But too much. 

“I don’t have to justify myself for you, ” Derek growled, and Erica silently judged him with her eyes. 

“True, you don’t. You’ll justify yourself to Stiles."

Derek stared numbly at Erica. She went back to typing on her phone. Derek thought about saying something, asking what she had just announced. 

“Stiles is coming over." She said after a moment, as if reading his mind. Her smirk was razor-sharp and cruel. 

Derek’s mouth hung open up at that, abject horror filling him."He is what?”

Erica patted Derek’s cheek and he had to refrain the impulse to bite off her hand. 

“I texted him, so he’s coming, and here’s what you’re going to do."

Flee?, Derek thought, panic-stricken. 

“You’re going to tell him exactly why you were such a pig and fooled him about all of this. Then, you’re going to hear whatever he has to tell you. Then, well, ” Erica paused, letting out a giggle that sounded anything but comforting to Derek."I wish I could stay and see it, I honestly do."

“Erica- no…” Derek started, but she shushed him. 

“Don’t, Derek, ” Erica said. She stood up, pushing up her breasts and adjusting her bra shamelessly, “you fucked up big time, okay? And I think you did it because you’re an emotionally constipated asshole, but that doesn’t make any of it okay. Do you understand that?”

Derek nodded silently. 

“You played Stiles really bad here. You raised his expectations; you made him open up under false premises. Maybe you thought you wouldn’t be caught, but what would you do, I don’t know, one year down the line? What if Stiles asked to meet you? What had you intended to accomplish with this bullshit? Merely delete your profiles and disappear? How would Stiles feel about that?”

Derek said nothing, mostly because there was nothing to say. She was absolutely right about everything. 

“I believe you didn’t want to hurt him, Derek. But you did. You did, and you know what? Now you’re going to hurt too. You better take it with grace, because that’s what Stiles did anyway."

Derek hung his head in shame, feeling a lot like a chastised small child. He wondered what Laura would say if she were still around. He didn’t even want to imagine what his mother would think of him, because the thought alone was too much. 

“Erica?” Derek asked as she paused, and she hummed, letting it clear she had heard him."How long have all of you known about… About this?”

“About you catfishing Stiles?” Erica raised an eyebrow, silently challenging Derek to call it anything other than what it was."Hm, that’s for Stiles to tell you."

She didn’t give Derek a chance to answer or process what she just said. Instead, she leaned in and kissed him on the cheek, before sauntering off, leaving the loft unhurriedly, as if she hadn't announced his doom. 

Derek sat where he was, looking at his hands. He felt guilty, terribly so, and it wasn’t a new feeling. Derek felt guilty about lying to Stiles before, but it was the kind of shame Derek could push aside and pretend it wasn’t warranted, because he wasn’t doing any harm, because he didn’t mean any harm to Stiles. It was just an amoral tactic. That was all. 

Except that was a lie. It was every bit as immoral and despicable as Erica had said. 

It wasn’t like Derek didn’t understand the implications of what he’d done. He did. It was just so easy to push aside the consequences of an act when someone’s driven into the results, when they lie to themselves about the seriousness of some decision. He justified his actions to himself, based on his crooked reasoning and knowledge of his own so-called good intentions. Yet, Derek knew it was all fake, all just glossy little lies he hid behind so he didn’t have to deal with the naked truth that his lies were horrible, and so was he, by proxy. 

Derek couldn’t even start to imagine how Stiles would react. He didn’t want to. 

His internal struggle lasted longer than he imagined, because the next thing Derek was aware of, the rattling sound of the Jeep’s motor came to a stop in front of his building. 

Derek didn’t move. He just listened in for Stiles’ heart. It was fast, so fast, like bird’s wings inside his ribcage, and Derek wondered if that was the sound of his anger or his hurt. 

The door slid open again, and this time, instead of the clacking of high heels, he heard the silent squeak of Stiles’ sneakers on the floor. 

Derek didn’t dare look up, but he knew Stiles was looking at him. He could feel thoseeyes burning holes on his skin. He half wished those holes were real, that they were punishment enough. 

“I don’t think I’ve ever wanted to punch someone as much as I want to punch you now, ” Stiles said with a neutral tone, and Derek closed his eyes. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It wasn’t all that surprising then, that not even ten minutes into their meeting, Stiles had accidentally told Lydia about the Aaron situation. He tried to tell her the bare minimum and be as light as possible about it, but Stiles had a feeling he had failed.
> 
> "You're being catfished?" Lydia gaped, manicured nails poised over her frappuccino cup in stilled shock. She blinked slowly, her long eyelashes casting shadows over her flushed cheekbones. 
> 
> "Yeah, yeah, I know okay? I feel like an idiot already." Stiles groaned and let his head hit the table. He deftly avoided braining himself on the napkin holder, but it was a near thing.
> 
> "Well, you should feel like an idiot, ” Lydia sniffed sensibly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm kinda posting this on a hurry, so I hope there's nothing wrong!
> 
> Thanks so much for the feedback! See you guys Sunday!

Stiles wasn’t an idiot. In fact, Stiles was the smartest person that he knew, exception belonging, deservedly so, to Lydia Martin. But then Lydia was probably smarter than around 95% of the human population, and Stiles wasn’t even upset. His epic love for her was completely justified by her beauty and brains. 

Still, the fact remained that Stiles was smart. He was also inquisitive. He liked to investigate things, which wasn’t at all surprising, seeing as he was the Sheriff’s kid. He'd grown up inside the station, reading files he wasn’t supposed to and listening to the police radio as soon as he was actually learned how to operate it. Stiles asked questions in his head all the time—something he had his ADHD to blame and curse for. Plus, once in a while, he actually liked to find answers to them. 

There was a reason why Stiles researched random things, and that was his somewhat unquenchable curiosity. 

So it wasn’t all that much of a surprise that as soon as a guy approached him online, Stiles started to ask himself questions. Who he was? Where he lived? Stiles was curious, and the more they talked, the more Stiles thirsted for answers. Those questions could be answered in two ways: one, by asking, and two by investigating. Stiles decided to take the former route at first. He actually had no reason to distrust the answers he was going to be given. 

Stiles found out the boy was called Aaron. He lived in New York city with his older sister. He had several siblings, some older, some younger, but he was only really close to Sarah, the eldest, the one he lived with. He worked part-time at a bookstore, and he actually liked to read, which made his job really fun. He wasn’t from New York city; he previously lived in Sacramento, which meant he had been born close to Stiles, both of them from California. He knew what he looked liked, some of his favorite foods, and even, later on, his favorite porn to masturbate to. 

He knew things about Aaron, but not everything. There were things about Aaron that Stiles didn’t know. Which was normal —Stiles doubted he knew every single detail about Scott’s life. Okay, no, that was a lie, he probably did. But Lydia? He sure as hell didn’t know everything about her, and he never would. That was an unnerving part of meeting people; there was no way of picking up all contents of their heads. Stiles could see that as a good thing; he wasn’t sure he wanted people to do that to him. Actually, he was pretty sure he didn’t want it at all. 

The problem started, though, when some of the things that Stiles knew about Aaron didn’t make sense. The first time Stiles frowned about something Aaron said was about the name of his first relationship. The first time Stiles asked, Aaron took his sweet time in answering and said it was some girl in high school called Anna. He clamped up after that and Stiles chalked it down on maybe being a sore spot still. At the time, they barely knew each other, and Aaron was still more chevyc10 than Aaron

So it made sense that he wouldn’t want to open up about overly personal things. 

Except several weeks later, when the subject arouse again, Aaron quickly answered his first girlfriend was named Paige. 

It was a small inconsistency, so small Stiles was willing to let go, but not forget. He thought about calling Aaron on it, but something in the back of his mind told him not to. Maybe he lied about the name out of self-preservation on the internet—some people were overly cautious about their identities online. However, Stiles’ over perceptive brain was inclined to believe otherwise. Aaron always seemed nervous, slippery even, when they talked. Sometimes he would take too long to answer, like he was thinking about what to say, and that small stumble only made Stiles (more) cautious (than he already was). Yet, instead of raising the alarm, Stiles gave the proverbial rope so Aaron would hang himself. 

And he did. Once Stiles was set into fishing for lies, it was oh so easy to catch him. He only needed to ask some perfectly crafted words, check some basic information and voilà. Maybe it was just Stiles’ luck that Aaron was so contained about what he told Stiles, that it was easy to set him up into slipping again. It was always small things: his mother’s work, his first school, his first pet name. Details that could be so easily overlooked by a less attentive person. 

It didn’t take much for him to realize he was being catfished, and he wasn’t amused about it. 

At first, Stiles was just so shocked, he just laughed. Because he, Stiles Stilinski of Beacon Hills, was being catfished on the internet. It was so surreal and unexpected, that he felt plain incredulity at the whole thing. Stiles second-guessed his discovery, spent a little longer trying to disprove himself about the catfishing. Maybe he got it wrong somehow, but time only seemed to give him more and more proof that he was correct. 

He was being catfished. Someone on the internet was pretending to be someone they were not for… Reasons. Reasons Stiles didn’t know, but he didn’t even care. 

Then came the anger. Stiles thought of the ways he could ruin Aaron—or whatever his name was. He thought about finding his darkest secrets and dragging them into light. It would be easy enough. He could hack into his computer, find out every bit of personal information available and make “Aaron’s” life hell. If he couldn't, well, Danny could. He thought about finding where he lived, and maybe going there and giving the guy a scare. He thought of filling his computer with the most compromising porn possible. So many ways he could get his revenge, so little time. 

He also couldn’t help not wanting to do anything until he was one hundred percent sure. The only reason why Stiles oscillated between seething rage and hesitance was that, well, maybe Stiles was possibly a teeny bit emotionally compromised by Aaron. Maybe. 

And by that, Stiles meant considerably compromised. As in, he has feelings for Aaron. 

It wasn't his fault, really. Aaron was captivating, even if he was a lying sack of shit, and had an amazing dry wit, that attracted Stiles so much. Even though it was most likely all a lie, he didn't understand the angle. Was all this for dick pics? Was it for fun? Did Aaron have some sick, perverted sense of humor? Was Aaron actually a fifty year old bald guy with three kids and a twink fetish? Stiles didn't know, and not knowing gnawed at his insides. The first thing, before he planned revenge, was actually knowing who Aaron really was. 

While he knew he was being overdramatic, and the sensible course of action was cease all communications instead of seeking revenge, Stiles couldn’t help it. Because, in the end, he was hurt. That fact was what bothered Stiles most. It was that he was being deceived, and at the same time, feeling that tiny bit of pain over getting slightly emotionally attached to someone who wasn’t real, who lied to him. Stiles couldn’t help but look back at their talks and wonder what, if anything, was real. The worst part was realizing it was most likely nothing. So he latched onto the anger, because anger was safe and easy to deal with, easier than his hurt anyway. 

**-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-**

If Stiles harbored any doubts about his course of actions, it all was solved about a week after his discovery. 

Lydia and Stiles had grown closer once Stiles finally got over his crush for her and moved his affections to Derek. Once there were no one-sided feelings between them, their friendship flourished beautifully. It was somewhat of a comfort for Stiles to know that he was right about them; they were amazing together. Just not romantically. They could have been, but after everything they went through together, the camaraderie was stronger than any lasting attraction on Stiles side. That was more than fine for both parties. 

Ever since college started though, it got harder for them to be together, but Summer Break meant Lydia was around, so they had time for themselves and their rituals. One was their weekly gossip coffee, which consisted in buying themselves coffee and happily chatting away about other people’s lives. It was absolutely no mystery that Stiles liked to be informed about things, and no mystery that Lydia was informed about said things. Therefore, it was merely logical for them to discuss things of mutual interest. 

Or, as Scott liked to say, they were two gossipy, shameless old women, not that Stiles agreed. Whatever. 

It wasn’t all that surprising then, that not even ten minutes into their meeting, Stiles had accidentally told Lydia about the Aaron situation. He tried to tell her the bare minimum and be as light as possible about it, but Stiles had a feeling he had failed. 

"You're being _catfished_?" Lydia gaped, manicured nails poised over her frappuccino cup in stilled shock. She blinked slowly, her long eyelashes casting shadows over her flushed cheekbones. 

"Yeah, yeah, I know okay? I feel like an idiot already." Stiles groaned and let his head hit the table. He deftly avoided braining himself on the napkin holder, but it was a near thing. 

"Well, you should feel like an idiot, ” Lydia sniffed sensibly, “Did you send him any material that can make your life harder?" 

Stiles sat upright again, frowning at Lydia, and picked his coffee up. 

"What do you mean?"

"Nudes, Stiles. Did you send him nudes, " Lydia elaborated, making an impatient gesture with her hands. 

Startled, he choked on his coffee, scalding the roof of his mouth. He stared at her, hot coffee still dripping from his lips onto the tabletop. Rolling her eyes, Lydia pulled some napkins from the holder, before extending them to Stiles, who took them and cleaned his face before answering. 

"Uh, no. No, c'mon Lydia, I'm not that desperate."

She had the gall to snort."Yes, you are."

Stiles rolled his eyes, huffing. Sometimes he had to question himself for liking her."Okay, yes I am, but I know better than to send a picture of my sweet ass to someone I know little about, okay? I did send him pictures of my face though. My best assets were all hidden away though, I assure you."

"Good. That makes things easier." Lydia nodded sagely, pulling her phone and deftly tapping on it. 

Stiles stared a bit, always amazed how fast she could type with those nails of hers. He was a fast typer, but Lydia was just as fast as he was without having full use of her finger tips. 

"What are you doing?"

Lydia didn’t answer for several seconds that felt like minutes. Stiles sipped his coffee while he waited, knowing that nagging her for answers would be in vain, if not counterproductive. He almost pulled his own phone out when Lydia put hers down with a resolute air. 

"I know hacking isn't your forté, so I'm asking Danny for a favor."

Stiles opened his mouth to say something, but he wasn’t even sure what to say. Because he had thought about asking Danny for the favor, but how Lydia had guessed that it was a necessary measure was beyond him. 

“Sometimes I do think you’re psychic, Lydia, and that you’re messing with us all by pretending you aren’t." Stiles squinted at her."Are you? Are you psychic? Are you browsing my brain and seeing every porn I ever watched? Because I would advise you otherwise. That can be a scarring experience."

Lydia tossed her pony tail over her shoulder, leaning so her elbows rested on the table. She crossed her arms in front of her and tapped her arms with her fingers, staring at Stiles, completely ignoring his babbling."Stiles, I know you. If you’re not telling me how you want his head, it’s either because you can’t or because you’re not sure that’s the best call to make. As it is, I’m solving both issues for you." Lydia didn’t even blink while saying all that. She just said all of that with an air of practicality that was almost her signature. 

“. . . I think I have a bit of a boner for you now."

“You always do, dear." Lydia raised a perfectly shaped eyebrow, smiling a bit."Now, I want you to run everything by me again, and please don’t skip anything; you don’t need to pretend you’re not hurt."

Stiles opened his mouth to deny, but Lydia just held his hand and squeezed briefly before letting go. 

“Stiles, anyone would be, in your place, ” Lydia said, and the saving grace was maybe how neutral her tone was. 

He wouldn’t be able to deal with pity, not from Lydia. Especially from Lydia. 

“I’m not- It’s not…” Stiles stuttered and stopped, because he didn’t even know what to say that wouldn’t sound like a lie. 

Lydia gracefully let him trail off, filling the telling silence herself. 

“It doesn’t matter anyway. We’re going to find out who he is, Stiles, and we’re going to disembowel him. Or her." 

Stiles sighed and nodded at Lydia, as he drained his coffee, ignoring the burn

Although he wanted to know Aaron's real identity badly, there was still a small bitterness he couldn't dispel, probably because even Lydia could see his emotional attachment. 

He supposed dragging the guy down would help with it. 

**-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-**

"You've got to be kidding me."

It seemed that as soon as Lydia asked Danny to work his little hacker magic, he went right to work, because barely three days later, Danny had a complete report about Aaron to give. Lydia promptly told Stiles so. They scheduled a meeting to hear what Danny had found and plan their course of action, since now Lydia was just as invested in Stiles' revenge plan as he was. He even felt that she was maybe even a little too invested. 

It made Stiles feel weirdly happy

Still, what he heard was far from what he expected. He stared at Lydia's phone in utter shock, before looking at her in the same fashion. He felt utterly shocked."Utter” and “shock” being important words to describe the size of his disbelief. 

Lydia clucked her tongue impatiently, and frowned at Stiles."Does he look like he is kidding?"

Stiles glared at her and pointed a finger at the smartphone’s screen, as if it was offending him. It actually was, in a way. 

"Lydia, we both know exactly what this means, and it's totally ridiculous." Stiles could barely breath, because there were absurd things and there was. . . that. 

"I suppose that’s his idea of a joke." Lydia answered, not unkindly. 

Stiles ignored her in favor to turn to Danny in the smartphone’s screen. Danny looked faintly amused, like he thought Stiles' distress was entertaining. Grimacing, Stiles realized Danny was probably laughing at Stiles for being catfished like a stupid internet newbie. 

"Are you 100% sure of this information, Danny?" Stiles asked in a harsh tone. 

Danny bitchfaced Stiles, not even bothering to answer and Stiles merely sighed unhappily. 

"Okay. Okay, thank you I guess."

"You owe me big time, Stilinski." Danny and Stiles never grew to get close enough to be friends, but they were civil with each other, probably because Lydia wouldn’t tolerate anything else from them. 

“Yeah, yeah, whatever, Danny." Stiles dismissed, not caring. There was nothing Danny would want from him anyway. 

Danny glared at him, before smiling at Lydia, dimples showing. Stiles didn't gain even the faintest smile. Rude. 

"Bye, Lydia. I'll call you later this week, okay?"

"Sure, sweetheart. Thank you for your help."

Danny waved again, and the videocall ended. Lydia locked the screen, before putting her mobile in her purse. She crossed her legs, twisting ever so slightly on Stiles' chair. 

"Well?"

"Lydia. . ." Stiles started and stopped. 

According to Danny, Aaron wasn't based in New York. He was based in Beacon Hills, of all places, and a further search showed exactly the area where he was based and who was the person linked to that internet bill. 

Aaron's IP came from Derek's loft. He didn't know how to process this information, that someone so close to him was playing him like that. He couldn't process it at all. He was expecting anything really, from old dudes, to some closet case, or even maybe a girl pretending to be a boy. He thought of so many scenarios. Aaron being someone from the pack wasn't one of them. 

In all reality, it hurt. A lot. 

"It's either Derek or Isaac doing it." Lydia said, cutting Stiles' train of thoughts. He looked at her."But the constancy of the access and the time he's online suggests it isn't Isaac, since he's spending more time at Scott's than anywhere else."

Stiles shook his head."Lydia, why in the name of God would Derek catfish me? Derek Hale, grumpy cat cosplay and biggest asshole of Beacon Hills? Just. . . Why?"

"You said it yourself, honey." Lydia said, drumming her fingers against her skirt."He's a huge asshole."

"Lydia, I could expect that from Isaac. He was never very fond of me, and he could get some awesome revenge material from this, but Derek? This isn't his style. For god's sake, until recently I wasn't sure Derek even knew how to turn on a computer, let alone do all this."

Lydia hummed low, twisting a lock of red hair in her forefinger."He did buy a new computer, though, didn't he?"

"Yes. . ." Stiles muttered, letting his weight pull him down and back, while he flopped into the mattress. 

"And I remember you mentioning that it was a very good computer. You gushed over it in the last pack meeting."

"I did. . ." Stiles answered, staring at his ceiling. There was a humidity mark that resembled a wolf. It made Stiles want to laugh hysterically or cry. 

"It seems like too much coincidence, don't you think?"

Stiles propped himself into his elbows and looked at Lydia. She looked back and, for the first time, Stiles realized that Lydia's gaze was - not pitiful, but - softer than the usual. His throat felt suddenly clogged. 

"Stiles, I don't know why Derek would do this. I agree with you, this isn't his style at all, or I never pegged him as it anyway. And I don't know what's his angle here, but. . ."

But, Stiles thought. But it was Derek. 

Derek Hale, former alpha and eternal sourwolf on whom Stiles had a huge crush since always. 

A crush Lydia was well aware of, since she was probably the first person to actually address Stiles about it. She wasn't the first person Stiles told about his crush —that person was Scott, but Lydia realized what Stiles felt before he knew himself. Stiles didn't tell her because he didn't need to, because she was right there when he first realized his feelings. 

So the look Lydia was gave him made sense, all things considered. She knew for just how long Stiles had pined from afar, and the catfishing had a different spin when feelings were involved. 

Double feelings, as it was, for Aaron and for Derek. They were the same person. Stiles felt like throwing up. 

"Do you still want to go through with your revenge?" She asked after a while, and all Stiles could was shrug in response. 

Did he? He didn't know. He felt like he should, but at the same time, he was deadly afraid. Because he didn't know why and. . . Dared he hope? Because under the disappointment and anger there was a small thread of hope that maybe, just maybe, Derek had done it with other intentions in mind than screwing with him. It was unlikely, but there was that thin downright delusional possibility hanging there, and Stiles needed to know. 

"I need to know, Lydia." Stiles voiced after one heartbeat or two, that felt way longer than that. 

She nodded. standing up and adjusted her miniskirt, a determined look on her face. 

"Well then. Let's find out."

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Lydia's determination in finding out was what got Erica hooked up in their plan. Because, to the mankind’s ultimate fear and despair, Lydia and Erica had bonded and formed a solid friendship based on mutual bitching and never-ending confidence. It was, in Stiles' opinion, beautiful to watch. He was convinced one day he would wake up to the both of them ruling the world with fabulousness and amazing cleavage. If so, he wouldn’t mind. 

"Oh my god. Let me see if I got this straight, " Erica said, spinning on her high heels to face Stiles. They decided that Stiles bedroom wasn't an ideal place for their meetings, so they loungedin the comfort of Lydia's home. Stiles didn't complain though; Lydia's couch was incredible."Derek made a fake online account, and he was tricking Stiles into believing he was this Aaron boy?"

"Apparently." Lydia surmised, perched on a loveseat while petting Prada. Stiles just sank further into the cushions. 

"This is so amusing." Erica said and snickered, not even bothering to hide her amusement. 

"I'm glad my pain is entertaining you." Stiles scowled at her. 

"Oh it's entertaining me alright. You don't even know." Erica said, plopping down beside Stiles on the couch. She leaned in and kissed his cheek, a silent request for Stiles not to be mad at her."So, what do you guys need from me?"

Lydia put Prada on the floor, before answering, while she pulled her hair into a messy bun."We need you to confirm it is indeed Derek doing it. You never know. Maybe someone else is using his WiFi, which I find extremely unlikely, but we should make sure it is him before doing anything else."

Erica nodded, humming to herself. She hooked an arm behind Stiles and patted his head, before rubbing his scalp. He groaned and closed his eyes. He loved when Erica did that to him, and she knew it."I can do that. What else from there?"

"I want to know why before I shove my baseball bat laced with wolfsbane up Derek's ass." Stiles grumbles, too blissed out from Erica's caress to be truly angry. 

"Kinky." Erica says and Stiles snorts, despite himself. She pokes his cheek with a finger and Stiles opens his eyes, looking at her."But I know he was the one that did it."

Stiles bolted up, sitting ramrod straight and looked at Erica with wide eyes. On her seat, Lydia leaned forward, fully attentive now. 

"What do you mean you know?" Stiles asked, talking so fast the words mended together. 

"Oh, c’mon Batman. It’s pretty obvious." Erica says, smirking like she can barely contain her glee."Even I could figure out why he did it."

Suddenly Lydia was clapping her hand together and muttering 'but of course', like everything suddenly made a whole lot of sense. Which it didn’t, at least not to Stiles, not even one bit. 

"What? What is obvious? What am I missing here?" He asked frantically, feeling like an idiot, especially when Lydia and Erica were staring at each other, apparently holding an entire conversation with intense gazing and twitching lips. 

Stiles stood up, putting himself between them, gesturing wildly. He was the most interested party there, and he had a right to know what they meant by it, how it was obvious what Derek had done and the reason behind it."Oh no, you two don't even! I want to know why, okay?" He exclaimed, looking at them."Don’t get started in the whole secret thing, because last I checked, I was the one getting screwed here, so the least I deserve is to know why I’m being fucked over."

Lydia shrugged, and Erica smiled. 

"Oh, Stiles, it's pretty simple." Erica said, stretching her legs in front of her and crossing her ankles. She made a pause, and Stiles stomped his feet like an angry child."Derek did it because he's a stupid imbecile with very questionable morals that's totally in love with you."

**-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-**

Deciding to log in into Skype took a lot of thinking and useless fretting on Stiles’s part. 

Ever since he had found out that it was Derek catfishing him, Stiles hadn’t come back online. He couldn’t. Mostly because Stiles couldn’t decide if he wanted to knock on Derek’s door and hit him in the face with a brick, or not. He didn’t want to admit, but part of him was still weirdly hurt and tender, like the deceiving had bruised his feelings. Which it, in all honesty, it had. 

Stiles threw himself on his bed, eyeing his laptop warily. It wasn’t just being deceived, which was already incredibly awful. It was having feelings for two different people, in two different ways, only to see said feelings directed to the same individual. He had liked Aaron, or he was on his way to. He was interested, the guy was fun, and smart, and maybe Stiles had fantasized about him more than once, wondering if there was any possible future for them. Yet, then there was Derek, for whom he had all these complex feelings, that seemed to range from “I-want-to-climb-you-like-a-tree” and “I-want-to-make-your-life-suck-less”, to “please-just-stop-talking-you-are-an-asshole-and-I-hate-you”. To top it all off, Stiles pined in his own way for so long, his feelings for Derek seemed like some default emotion, ingrained in his very being. 

Stiles rolled on his bed, shoving his face into the pillow. He had no idea how to reconcile himself with the notion they were one and the same, and worse, that Derek had done what he did to him. 

He maybe should go and get this over with, just tell Derek he was aware of his actions and rip him a new one. Erica’s words still rang in his ears, that Derek was in love with Stiles, but he wasn’t sure he believed her. He didn’t understand why Derek would need to resort to such tactics; it didn’t sound like something someone in love would do. It looked like something someone aiming to play a prank or cause harm would, and Stiles wasn’t sure what to think about it. Or about anything really. 

Groaning aloud, Stiles sat up and went to his desk, opening Skype. He kept making noises that were an incredible impersonation of a very sad zombie while the software connected, and when it finally did, he scanned the contact list. 

“Aaron” was online. 

He barely had time to think if he wanted to talk to him after all, when the sound announcing a new message played. He groaned some more, before resigning himself to go and face the music. 

**Aaron H:** Hi, Stiles. **Aaron H:** It’s been awhile. I missed you. **Aaron H:** How are you doing?

Stiles resisted the impulse to bash his head against the desk. Repeatedly. Now that he knew what he was looking for, he could see it was Derek all over: the way of typing, the weird politeness. He had even been stupid enough to put his surname as an H. For Hale. Stiles never asked Aaron’s surname out of internet courtesy, but he knew that if he were to ask, Aaron would take a long time, because Derek was trying to come up with a surname that not his own. 

And Derek missed him. Oh god, he felt like throwing up. 

**Stiles:** im cool

Stiles ran his hands through his hair, tugging it a little. He didn’t know what to say. What he could say? Knowing it was Derek made Stiles feel weird. Grossed out. He thought of closing Skype and trying to deal with his own growing uneasiness, but he couldn’t bring himself to move. He sat there for more time than he realized, because the next message had a timestamp from almost ten minutes later. 

**Aaron H:** That’s good. 

**Aaron H:** Are you busy? 

“Just close this, ” Stiles muttered to himself."C’mon, just close this."

He forced himself to type an answer. 

**Stiles:** no

 **Aaron H:** Okay…

 **Aaron H:** Are you sure you are okay? 

**Aaron H:** You are uncharacteristically quiet tonight. 

**Aaron H:** I hope I’m not bothering you, but if you need to talk, I’m here. 

Stiles laughed, a sudden burst of energy that broke out of his lungs and past his lips loudly. Aaron/Derek was worried about him, Aaron/Derek didn’t know that he was the source of Stiles’ quietness. His laughter kept going, sounding more and more hysterical by the second. 

It hurt. It hurt his chest; his eyes stung, and, before Stiles knew it, he was crying. He was doubled over, unable to shake himself from feeling too small and too hurt. Stiles quickly closed his laptop lid, not even bothering to say goodbye, and keeled over his desk, crying over his laptop, forehead resting on the lid. 

It seemed like forever before the sobbing subsided, and Stiles could breath again. Cleaning his face on his t-shirt, he opened his laptop. He couldn’t stop the tears from falling, but he felt a little less weird, like he wasn’t overflowing with feelings he didn’t know how to deal with anymore. Stiles hadn't cried since he had found out, and it felt like it was about time. Stiles was glad though, that his break down came in the privacy of his own bedroom, rather than in front of Lydia and Erica. He had no idea how the two of them would react to that. 

He had a couple of unread messages from Aaron. 

**Aaron H:** Okay, I’m a bit worried now. 

**Aaron H:** It’s okay if you don’t want to talk to me, though. I just hope you’re fine. 

Stiles rubbed his eyes from new tears, and sniffed. That was what had made Stiles a bit smitten with Aaron. He was considerate and attentive. Something Stiles had never seen Derek being, at all. Ever. 

No, that wasn’t true. Derek was caring in his own way. He always put himself in danger to save other people. Derek often let go of his own comfort, in favor of others. It felt like Derek was all about showing how he cared, even in weird, misguided ways, while Aaron was about communicating his attentiveness. Different sides of what was the same coin, after all. 

It made Stiles wonder if Derek was maybe like Aaron, and that rough behavior was a defense mechanism, or if Aaron was a character, a huge acting part of Derek. Thinking about the latter made Stiles’ throat hurt with the effort of holding his tears back. 

**Stiles:** no im ok

 **Stiles:** jst a rough day

 **Aaron H:** I’m sorry. 

**Aaron H:** Do you want to talk about it, or…?

 **Stiles:** no

 **Aaron H:** Okay. 

**Aaron H:** Do you want to play and distract yourself?

Stiles hesitated. He felt conflicted, pulled in several different directions at the same time. He wanted to bring Derek down for his deception; he wanted Aaron to be real. He wanted Derek to be like Aaron. 

It pained Stiles that part of his desires didn’t involve getting back at Derek for what he did, but wishing that he could have Derek/Aaron. Both of them, as the same person, maybe. Some naive, stupid part of him, still hoped against hope that there something good could be taken from this situation. 

Stiles rubbed his hand against his cheek and looked to the window. It was late, and Stiles wondered if he were to take the Jeep and drive to the loft, if he would find Derek on his laptop. Would Derek hide it before he entered the loft? Would Derek even open the door for him?

Stiles knew he was stalling, but he didn’t have to decide tonight; did he? He asked Erica and Lydia to wait before he figured himself out. So, it would be perfectly acceptable for him to keep playing Derek’s game, pretending he didn’t know. Just for a bit longer, until he could know the real truth behind everything, the reason why Derek was lying, and if Aaron was just an elaborate act on Derek’s part, or maybe real. 

He could do it, Stiles thought, talk to Aaron/Derek and try to goad him into letting more show. If it was also a way of giving himself time to let Aaron go, well, no one needed to know beside Stiles. 

Nodding to himself, Stiles typed his reply. 

**Stiles:** maybe l8r

 **Stiles:** do u mind if we talked for a bit? 

**Aaron H:** Not at all. I like to talk with you, Stiles. 

**Aaron H:** I hope you know that by now. 

Stiles felt his eyes burn again, but no tears fell. He took a deep breath before typing. 

**Stiles:** yeah

 **Stiles:** me 2


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles collapsed on the couch, burying his face on his hands. Scott made a sympathetic noise by his side, before giving a friendly tap on his back. Everything was beyond fucked up, Stiles realized, so much he didn’t even know how to start fixing things.
> 
> “I fucked up, didn’t I?” Stiles asked, glancing at Scott, who just shrugged.
> 
> “If it helps, Derek also fucked up. Badly."
> 
> “God, this is all a fucking mess, ” Stiles groaned, feeling too tired all of a sudden, “What do I do now? I mean, Jesus, when did my life become such a bad soap opera story?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oops, I'm sorry I wasn't able to update yesterday as planned, AO3 went down, and then I got busy, but here it is! 
> 
> So much drama lol
> 
> AAAAND ONE CHAPTER TO GO! It might not be uploaded this Wednesday, because I have some personal matters to attend to might take my whole day, BUT it'll updated this week, promise.

Stiles looked at Derek’s hunched form and wondered what exactly he should feel. Triumph seemed right, because he had finally cornered Derek, but triumph wasn’t what he was feeling. Maybe he should feel anger, and there was a good dose of that running through his veins. Once upon a time he had been furious. Now, his anger was a simmering amber, spreading heat, but not burning Stiles up. 

Maybe Stiles should feel relief, because he was sure Derek didn’t lie out of some malicious intent, but he had stopped feeling relief long ago. Maybe he should feel disgust, and he had, still did. Though not as much as before, his disgust boiled down mostly to the knowledge that Derek would rather resort to a lying scheme then to be open with Stiles. 

Stiles should probably feel several different things, but mostly, he was annoyed. 

“Stop looking so pitiful, ” Stiles said, with venom in his voice he didn’t really think he had, “you look like I’m about to behead you. You deserve to be, mind you, but I’m pretty sure Erica would be angry at me if I did."

Derek straightened himself a bit, but he still looked anywhere but at Stiles, and that made him angry. 

“Hey, Jackass, at least look me in the eye, ” Stiles called, and Derek winced. That pitiful act was grating on Stiles’ nerves."You know what, fuck you. You’re looking all sad and whatever, like you get to be hurt or something, and you really don’t. You lied to me, you pretended to be someone else for months, okay? Five months, Derek. Five! At least be a man, and face me."

That did the trick, and Derek looked up. If he felt half as guilty as he looked, he was walking on contrition now. 

“You know, I’m not sure what made you think you could outsmart me, but hey, golden star for the attempt. You almost did—okay, no, you did, for a little while. But I hate to break it to you, you jerk; I’m way smarter than you, and I figured out your little act eons ago."

Derek’s lips parted, and then closed. He looked like he wanted to ask something. His actions made Stiles grow angrier by the minute. Stiles took a deep breath and blew it out forcefully, trying to get some control over his own emotions. 

“What? C’mon, you’re just going to sit there and take whatever I tell you?” Derek said nothing. Stiles snapped."Fine, so take this: You’re a fucking coward and a piece of shit, Derek! I don’t know if I’m angrier at you for deceiving me, or for being deceived by a fucking asshole that doesn’t even have the courage to come and face me like a man! That’s the fucking least I deserve, okay, but no, you just clam up, like the fucking coward you are." 

Stiles stopped, panting by the end of his tirade, but the only Stiles got was Derek balling his hands into fists. His nostrils flared, like he was trying his best to keep his temper in check, and it wasn’t even infuriating anymore. It was just sad and tiring. 

“. . . Forget it. This whole- I don’t even know anymore." Stiles muttered, rubbing his eyes. 

He felt tired and defeated. He spent so long stringing Derek along, carefully planning things, imagining this moment, that now he was there he just… Didn’t know. It felt pointless. Like he was trying to repair a lethal wound with Neosporin and a Band Aid. 

He turned to leave, wondering what he would tell Lydia once he reported back to her house. Stiles just wanted to go back to college and forget this year. “You’re right, Stiles, ” Derek said, voice rough. Stiles turned back to him, and saw that Derek was finally looking at him. Derek still looked guilty, and there was barely any vestige of anger on his face, but he was finally looking at Stiles. It settled something inside him. 

Stiles stared at Derek, waiting for more, but nothing came. He just sat there, looking small and pathetic, and Stiles didn’t know if he wanted to rage at Derek or just sit down and cry. He licked his lips, thinking for a moment and decided that the least he could do was be done with it. Derek deserved to have that little bit of knowledge eating him up inside. So Stiles talked. 

“I knew, you know?”

Derek frowned slightly. Stiles turned to him, stepped forward. 

“I knew it was you behind Aaron. I’ve known for awhile now." Stiles paused, licking the back of his teeth. He wondered if Derek would even care at this point, but the whole apologetic act suggested that he would. 

“I’ve known it was you for almost three months now, Derek. I started to notice all these small inconsistencies about Aaron, and I decided to dig. That’s when I found out Aaron was one big fat lie. I’ve got to hand it to you, you got me good, Derek. Aaron was really nice. So nice I’m not going to lie, I was maybe falling a bit for him."

Derek sucked in a pained breath. His face was a mask of confusion and shock, and Stiles just kept going, kept talking while taking in every twitch of Derek’s face, every change in his expression. 

“So, you see, I recruited help to find out who Aaron really was. I fully intended to fucking ruin his life, y’know? I wanted to hurt him, Derek. I wanted it so bad. But then… Then I found out it had been you, of all people."

Derek finally looked at him, with open horror, instead of self-pity. It felt… Not good. Not bad either. It just felt like something other than the anger over the blankness and acceptance Derek had first showed. Because while he wanted an apology—and he really wanted it, he wanted to understand Derek’s reasons. He wanted to know there was a reason behind all of that, because maybe said reason would make things less awful. 

Stiles stopped talking and waited to see if Derek would say anything. He looked incredulous now, like he finally made the math in his head. Aaron existed for whole five months. Stiles was oblivious during two of those months. The rest of their interactions were under the light of Stiles’ knowledge. 

“Y-you knew for…?” Derek tried to say, looking like he’s suffocating on the truth. 

“I knew for three months and kept the pretense to see just about how far you would go? Yes." Stiles knew his tone was borderline cruel. By the way Derek flinched, he knew it was exactly that. 

There was a long silence, one that Stiles wanted to fill, but knew it was Derek’s place to. When he did, though, it wasn’t at all like Stiles expected him to. 

“How could you do that?” Derek asked, choking a bit. He stood up slowly, looking weirdly blank. For a moment, Stiles hesitated, unsure of how Derek would react next. 

“How could I trick you when you were tricking me? Oh, I don’t know, Derek, why don’t you tell me what kind of terrible person it takes to do such shit?”

It was then that Stiles realized that Derek was getting angry. 

“You knew for three months and you strung me along?” Derek asked again, voice rising slightly. Stiles raised his chin, unafraid."What the- Why?”

“I don’t know, Derek, why did you?”

Derek lost his temper. 

“I’m everything you said, ” He stared, voice low and rough, trembling ever so slightly. Stiles had seen Derek angry before, furious even, but this was another level of anger, something else entirely. He stepped back. Derek stepped forward."I’m a coward, and a liar, and everything else, ” Derek started, and then paused. He flexed his hands, looking around as if trying to find something to help him, and Stiles just waited."But I was never cruel. I never—I did what I did because I wanted to know you better, and you never gave me half a chance! You- you pretended to not know. You sent me _pictures-_ ”

Stiles felt his heart lurch and clench. He had wanted to hear that from Derek, he had wanted to hear way more than that, but finally having Derek saying it, felt nothing like he thought it would. There was no good feeling, no satisfaction, nothing. 

“Well, yeah buddy, I tricked the trickster. Feeling bitter about it?”

They stared at each other, Stiles panting ever so slightly, his chest feeling heavy. Derek looked wrecked. He looked hurt, scared even, and at the same time, there was a blankness in his expression, like he was trying too hard to conceal his feelings. Stiles wanted to rip all that to shreds. 

“You- What were you trying to do?” Derek yelled, hand closing on the front of his own shirt. He looked vulnerable doing that, and Stiles felt his anger coming back in full force. Derek didn’t get to be angry at him; he really didn’t. 

“I wanted to see just how far you were willing to take that, how long you were going to deceive me!” Stiles shouted, moving closer to Derek, so close they were face to face, close enough to touch. Stiles couldn’t even stand the idea of touching Derek in that moment."Did you like it, huh? Did you enjoy being liked by someone for once? Too bad you had to lie and pretend to be someone else for that to happen!”

Derek winced like Stiles had punched him. He stumbled back as if his words had physical force, and that was probably the first time ever Stiles saw Derek recoiling from him like that. He remembered so many moments in which they fought, but Derek always stood tall when Stiles came up right ot his face. For the first time ever, he seemed to fold into himself. 

It should have felt like a victory. It didn’t. 

“Out."

Stiles startled. 

“What?”

“I said out." Derek repeated, and Stiles laughed right on his face. 

“Tough luck. I’m not done."

“Yes, you are, ” Derek said, and Stiles noticed how choked he sounded, like Derek was close to tears. But his eyes were clear, “You made your point. You wanted me to feel like an idiot? You did it. I feel like an idiot and worse. Now leave."

“Oh, you don’t get to do this-”

“Leave, Stiles!”

“Or what? You’re going to make me?”

Derek stared at Stiles, like he wanted to, like nothing would give Derek more satisfaction than throwing Stiles out. But he didn’t. He just stepped back and away from Stiles, before marching to the door. 

“Where are you going? Hey! Don't turn your back to me!” Stiles called, going after Derek. He was by the door, taking his jacket from the hook and Stiles startled in surprise, “You’re going to leave your own apartment?”

Derek said nothing. He just slid the door open and stepped outside. 

“I can wait right here! You can’t run away from me like that, you jackass!” Stiles screamed, stalking in Derek’s direction, fully intending on dragging him back inside by the hair if needed. He didn’t get to run, to cut their talk short and act like he had a right to be hurt. He didn’t. He didn’t. 

Derek didn’t even spare Stiles a look, before closing the loft’s door. The door slid shut silently, but it felt incredibly loud to Stiles’ ears. 

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Derek didn’t know where he was going. 

He wandered on foot for a long time, going deeper and deeper into the Preserve. He couldn’t think straight, couldn’t stop the never ending buzzing of thoughts in his head. So, on he walked, letting the cold air and the smell of dead leaves envelop him. Derek felt… He didn’t even know. He felt both empty and too full, as if the hurt from Stiles words had made a gash in his emotions and let them leak out. He felt raw and lost like he hadn’t felt in years. 

The night was silent and dark around Derek, but he still found his way. Apparently, no matter how many years went by, Derek would always be able to find the spot where the Hale house once stood. It was a clearing in the forest now; the house had been bulldozed years back, while the forest floor grew over that space, concealing what lay there before. 

“Laura. . ." Derek muttered, his voice sounding inadequate in the silence of the forest. 

Derek walked forward, to the patch of purple flowers growing among the tall grass and bushes. The one flower he had planted at Laura’s grave had multiplied; it was now a huge patch. The sweet, sickening smell of wolfsbane made Derek want to run, but he didn’t. Instead, he sat on the edge of the flowers, looking at them. He knew Laura had a proper grave in the local cemetery, where half of her had been buried as is right and proper for humans. It always made Derek’s skin crawl to know her body was divided like this, but there was nothing he could do. Part of Laura rested with their family, and part here, where the tragedy had taken everything from them. 

A faint breeze blew through the clearing, blowing some petals and pollen on Derek. It burned him where it touched, not so much to be dangerous, but enough to ache for several moments after. Stiles had been right. Derek wasn’t loveable. He never would be again, because the people that would always love Derek unconditionally, were all six feet under. Derek didn’t really blame himself for the fire anymore, not entirely, but it didn’t stop him from feeling like his isolation was somewhat of a price to pay for his mistake. He had failed his family and pack, and now he couldn’t find another place to belong. 

Beacon Hills hadn’t felt like home for a long time now. Derek knew no other place in the world would feel like home again: home wasn’t a place; it was the people, the memories, the safety. Derek wouldn’t have that anywhere else anyway, so he had thought it was for the best to stay and do whatever he could to help and protect Beacon Hills. It seemed pointless to stay when he was just a glorified omega. 

Throwing one last look, Derek left. 

For a few hours, the intense urge to get away from Stiles moved him. He just kept going, further and further away, until he couldn’t smell the scent of Stiles’ anger under his nose, or hear the bare disgust of his voice. It took a long time, and by the time Derek stopped moving, the moon had set, and the sun was high up in the sky. 

He barely remembered which direction he’d gone. He was lucky enough that his car keys were inside his jacket’s pocket, so he took his Toyota and drove until the gas meter was dangerously low. 

He parked in a gas station, and his car’s GPS said he was almost in Sacramento. Derek had no idea just how long he was driving; he barely remember the routes he took. Tired, Derek rested his forehead against the steering wheel. 

No matter how far he drove, he still could hear Stiles’ words echoing in his head. Knowing that Stiles also felt Derek was unlikable, hit like a punch in the gut. Stiles’ words rang as nothing but the truth: Derek had to resort to lying to get his attention, and once the truth was out, he lost any and all favors again. 

Derek dragged himself out of the car, going to the pump. His feet hurt, and he was tired, even with his werewolf stamina. As much as he felt nauseated by everything, he was slightly hungry. Derek looked around, while filling the tank and spotted a small roadside diner across the gas station. Sighing, he went inside, paid what he owed to a bored looking guy who didn’t even bother looking up his phone to talk to Derek. 

The diner was small and shabby, but thankfully empty. He sat at a table hidden in a corner, and a woman on her forties came swinging to his table. She looked as tired as Derek himself, but she still spared a sincere smile to him. He ordered coffee, and after the server asked him twice about something to eat, pancakes. 

Derek stared at the road while he drank his coffee. It wasn’t the best coffee he ever had, but it was warm, bitter and enough to keep his mouth and hands occupied, while his mind didn’t stop turning. He thought back at all interactions with Stiles, trying to pinpoint the moment where it changed, where Stiles’ obliviousness disappeared. He couldn’t exactly say when, but he knew that, after some time, their “relationship” shifted to something else. Back then, Derek never suspected that the change was anything but natural; he counted himself both lucky and cursed for it. 

Stiles grew raunchier in his interactions, bolder in what he said and did, sent more revealing pictures of himself. Derek had felt guilty, terribly so, because he thought Stiles trusted the proverbial wolf in sheep’s clothing. Stiles had been deliberately baiting Derek then, because he didn’t send any compromising pictures in the beginning of their “friendship”. Derek had felt jealous of Aaron, of what Stiles had with Aaron, but not with Derek. He had been so guileless, outsmarted in his own game. 

Derek clenched his hand around the coffee mug, so much he felt it crack. Stiles could have put him out of his misery so long ago, but had chosen to wait to inflict as much pain as he could. Derek wondered if Stiles had told the entire pack. Were all of them laughing at his expense? Or would Stiles tell them now? 

He looked at the mug, and saw the thin spiderweb cracks creeping on the side, but it was still whole. Damaged, but not leaking. Derek thought of the pack. They would all surely turn against him now in favor of Stiles. The worst was, they would be right in doing so. Derek had wronged Stiles, and if he wronged Derek back, it was merely revenge. It didn’t change the fact that Derek started it. It didn’t change that Derek was somewhat of a loose end. 

‘You are the only piece that doesn’t fit, Derek’, he remembered. It had been years since he’d heard it, but it had been true back then. It rang true still. 

The pancakes tasted like nothing, and the second coffee he got was still as insipid as the first one. Still, he was fed and awake; that was enough. Derek paid the server and gave her a generous tip, winning a smile in return. On the walk back to his car, he pondered where to go next. He didn’t know where he wanted to go, but he knew he didn’t want to go back to Beacon Hills. 

He got into his car and kept driving south. 

**-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-**

Three days later, and Derek was nowhere to be found. 

Stiles waited a long time that day, and he only left when both Erica and Lydia appeared by the loft, both looking worried. He then realized he had failed to contact them, and he never noticed just how many hours he was in the loft. 

They didn’t ask him how it went; Stiles had a feeling he had it written on his face. They did take him from the loft, though, and they all drove to Lydia’s house. Stiles felt devoid of words for once, so he said nothing. He knew come morning, both girls would demand a retelling of what happened, so he gave himself that night of silence. 

The three of them slept curled around each other on Lydia’s bed, and he took silent comfort in their presence. 

“Okay, whatever, I can’t take this anymore, ” Erica said first thing in the morning after the argument, hair still messed from sleep. She patted Stiles’ cheek to wake him up, and he was now faced to with a curtain of blond hair and cleavage."What happened? You were all catatonic yesterday, and where was Derek?”

“We fought, and he left." Stiles sighed, resigning himself to retell. He didn’t want to. He wanted to drink coffee with a huge dose of whiskey and sleep for a month. 

“That much we deduced, ” Lydia interjected, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes. Once upon a time, Stiles would have killed to wake up in Lydia’s bed, while she was wearing nothing but a satin slip, but now he mostly admired her curves with somewhat of an aesthetically appreciative eye than proper sexual interest. 

“Don’t be an ass, and give us the details, ” Erica nudged Stiles with her foot, and he just groaned in response. 

Stiles didn’t want to talk, but he knew the duo would only nag him until he retold what happened, so he caved and gave an overview. His overwhelming anger had long given way to a weird melancholy Stiles wasn’t equipped to deal with. He told the story with some detachment, unsure of how he should even feel about it all. Somehow, satisfaction seemed to be the appropriate response, but it never came. 

When he finally stopped talking, Erica and Lydia traded looks. 

“I knew this would happen, ” Lydia sighed, rolling gracefully out of bed. She stretched, her slip riding up, but not even the sight of bare thighs were cheering Stiles up. 

“Knew what would happen? He would run like a fucking coward?” Stiles growled, picking a pillow and punching it angrily. Fuck Derek for leaving. Fuck Derek for acting like he had any right to be hurt. 

Erica pulled the pillow from his hands before it suffered any more abuse. 

“No, I think Lydia means that we both thought that in the end you would be all down and mopey." Erica explained. 

Stiles glared at her."Well, ex-fucking-cuse me if I’m angry at Derek for being an asshole, ” Stiles rolled out of bed, crossing his arms against his chest defensively."Wha? Now I’m wrong for being pissed off?”

“That wasn’t what we said, down with your hackles, ” Erica admonished, starfishing on the bed. She looked at Lydia, who had moved to her vanity table, rubbing some moisturizer on her face."Hey, Lydia, I think you’re better at explaining this than I am."

Lydia snorted, and Stiles saw her rolling her eyes through her mirror."I think it doesn’t matter which of us say anything to him, he’ll still be all in denial about it. I told you."

“Hey, he is right here, y’know? Tell whatever to my face."

Lydia turned, her lips tight in disapproval. She tossed her hair over her shoulder and stared Stiles down in a way that told him he was about to regret needling her like he did. 

“Sure. Here’s what I think, Stiles. You’ve known that it was Derek for literally months now, and you waited out all this time before doing anything for a reason. You didn’t want to let Aaron go, and you were scared that you would lose Derek as well, because lies or not, you thought you at least you had _something_. And when you realized you could keep some of the pretense, you decided it was okay deceiving Derek, because he started this game anyway. So now you’re angry at yourself, because this backfired spectacularly, and there’s a good chance Derek won’t want anything to do with you now."

Erica oh’ed from the bed, while Stiles gaped at Lydia for a full minute. Lydia just dared Stiles to tell her wrong with her eyes and, it infuriated Stiles. 

“Fuck you. This isn’t what happened. You don’t, you don’t know anything!”

Lydia stood up and, from the height of her 5’3”, she seemed to tower over Stiles. She wasn’t angry; her tone wasn’t aggressive, just done with. But she hit Stiles with precision, and he couldn’t do anything to counter her words at all, so he just took them, trembling ever so slightly. 

“Shut up, Lydia, you- you think just because you’re smart you know everything about me? Fuck that!”

“Oh please, don’t make this about me, when it clearly isn’t." Lydia scoffed, completely unimpressed. 

Stiles wanted to scream. He felt trapped in that bedroom, and he regretted ever telling them what happened. He told them as much."I should have never told any of you; you’re both completely insane." Stiles said, looking for his backpack and clothes. He needed to leave, before he said something he would regret and hurt them all. Because he was _angry_ , so very angry. At them. At Derek. 

At himself. 

When he went to grab his pants, Erica stopped him, shoving him away from them. It wasn’t forceful, but she was still considerably stronger than Stiles, and he stumbled, falling into bed. 

“Listen here, Stiles. You’re a dumbshit, but you’re not _that_ much of a dumbshit. You know we’re right." She said, and Stiles shook his head in denial, but she just kept going."Why did you ask us to wait before doing anything? You didn’t have any amazing plan up your damn sleeve; you weren’t waiting for Derek to slip and reveal anything, because there was nothing left to find out. You just didn’t want to let Derek go. You wanted to fool yourself, and congratulations, you managed it alright for full three months."

Stiles panted like he had ran a marathon, his chest heaving with each breath, but he refused to show weakness in front of them. Instead, he stood up and pushed past Erica to get his backpack. Erica sighed and touched his elbow, like she was trying to steer him away again, but Stiles just dodged her, giving her a warning look. 

“I don’t have to hear this shit from you two, I-” Stiles stopped, taking a breath, “. . . I’m going home."

“Stiles…” Lydia called, but he didn’t look at her or Erica before leaving the bedroom on a hurry. 

Stiles sat on his Jeep for few seconds, catching his breath. He was barefoot and in his pajamas; he’d left his sneakers by the door of Lydia’s house, but he wasn’t about to go back to grab them. It was a short drive from her home to his dad’s house. Stiles could do it without his stupid shoes. 

Once he arrived, he made a beeline for his childhood bedroom. Since he moved away to share an apartment with Scott, that bedroom felt in equal measures too small and comforting. He often crashed at his dad’s house anyway, be it because Isaac was around, or simply because he missed his father. Without bothering to take a shower, or change his clothes (well, it was pajamas anyway), Stiles threw himself on his bed, burrowing himself on his overused childhood comforter. The fabric felt thin and fragile, and it smelled strongly at the laundry detergent his dad favored. It was a different brand than his mom used when she was still around, but the scent comforted him all the same. 

Stiles closed his eyes and tried not to replay Erica’s and Lydia’s words, to no avail. He refused to acknowledge any truth in what they said; he didn’t know what to do with the heavy realization that sat waiting for Stiles past their words. He knew the moment he caved in and started to think about it, he would end up with a boatload of unpleasant feelings to deal with, and Stiles would rather not. It was already enough having to live with the sickening feeling in the pit of his stomach ever since Derek left the loft. 

Refusing to dwell on anything else, Stiles closed his eyes and slept the rest of the day away, waking up only on the evening, when his dad arrived from work. If his father noticed something unusual about Stiles’ behavior—Stiles crashing without telling him, the pajamas, the obvious sleep face, the suspicious redness on his eyes —he said nothing. He did, however, give Stiles an awkward one armed hug and ruffle his hair, before saying goodnight and heading to bed. Stiles felt eight again, and it wasn’t a particularly good age to relieve. So he went to bed once again, staring at the ceiling until his eyes watered and his brain shut down. 

He woke up again, this time early morning, and checked his phone. There were several messages there, and Stiles went through them with some anxiousness. 

**Ginger Queen:** You forgot your shoes here. I can’t believe you went home barefoot, Stiles. Really. 

**Ginger Queen:** I know you’re angry, but Stiles, you know we meant well by what we said. 

Stiles snorted, and moved to the next message. He would reply to Lydia later, though he had no idea what he would say yet. He kept scrolling and several messages were from Erica. 

**Batgirl:** i have ur shoes!

 **Batgirl:** finders keepers

 **Batgirl:** ur feet is smelly eeeew

 **Batgirl:** ok no srsly just come n get it when u can

 **Batgirl:** unless u have no other shoe

 **Batgirl:** then ill just laugh ahaahaahahaaha

Stiles rolled his eyes at the barrage of messages. There was one last message, dating from late night, way before Stiles finally fell asleep. 

**Batgirl:** hes not back yet. i just checked. he left his phone. 

Stiles rolled in bed, hiding his face in the pillow. He half wished Derek had taken his phone with him, though Stiles refused to call. Or care. He only cared because Derek had walked out on him, and he wasn’t finished. That was all. 

Laughing, Stiles settled on his back, and covered his eyes with his arm. He was such a terrible liar. 

He went back to checking his messages, and the last one, or the last one Stiles cared about, was from Scott. Stiles perked up; they hadn’t talked much in the last few days, something he fully blamed Isaac for. 

**BestBroEver:** bruh y didnt u tell me???????

 **BestBroEver:** liek wow srs brocode breach 

**BestBroEver:** we talkin today

 **BestBroEver:** ill swing by later ok?

 **BestBroEver:** bring pizza rolls 

**BestBroEver:** and beer is on u 8)

Stiles hadn’t told Scott about the catfishing, or that it was Derek. He knew better than to set Scott on Derek, especially when Scott was just terrible at keeping secrets. It was easier to keep it to himself (And Erica. And Lydia. And, well, Danny), than trying to contain Scott’s inevitable fury once he found out. Now, though, the proverbial cat was out of the bag, and Stiles thought that at least this was a good thing about Derek being away. Scott wouldn’t be able to eviscerate him. 

Not that Stiles cared. He didn’t. He _didn’t_. 

It took a lot of mental coaching, but eventually Stiles got off bed and went on with his day. He kept himself as busy as he possibly could, which meant actually getting out of his bedroom and doing things. Stiles was man enough to admit he was _stress cleaning_ the house, but he couldn’t really give much of a fuck when there was a year’s worth of dust under his father’s couch. He eventually even went to the grocery store, bought the promised (Well, expected at least) pizza rolls and beer, and cleaned himself up, knowing Scott would soon appear. 

He was proved right when Scott rang the doorbell as soon as Stiles put on some clean clothes after showering. He ran and opened the door, and was greeted with a tight hug and some enthusiastic back slapping. 

“Bro, what’s up?” Scott greeted, entering the house with the ease of someone who was familiar with the ambience. Which was true; after his father and himself, Scott was probably the other living person that knew that house like the back of their own hand. 

“Hey, Scotty. Pizza rolls are ready. Wanna eat?”

Scott nodded, as expected, and they relocated to the kitchen. The first few minutes were all about stuffing still-burning-hot pizza rolls into their mouths and washing them down with cold beer. When they finished, Scott visibly changed the air around him, clearly meaning business. Stiles thought of stalling, maybe asking them to watch a movie or play some video game, but Scott had an intense expression on his face that suggested it would be in vain. 

“So… Why?”

Stiles looked at Scott and wondered how much he knew. Or what “why” he was asking specifically. There were so many possibilities: why he didn’t tell, why he deceived Derek, why he was feeling so awful, when he apparently got what he wanted. 

“Why what?” Stiles deadpanned, trying to look as innocent and uninterested as he could. 

Scott gave him a look that said “ _Bullshit_ ” all over. 

“Why didn’t you tell me, Stiles."

“Dude… I don’t even know, okay?” Stiles hesitated, while Scott waited, patiently letting him get his words right."I didn’t want this to become a huge fight on my behalf, alright?”

Scott nodded solemnly, if not slightly unconvinced. Stiles knew his answer was dubious; he wasn’t sure why he didn’t get Scott involved. He had a faint idea, but he didn’t want to dwell on it. 

“Dude, I get that, but you should have told me, ” Scott said, and Stiles shrugged, picking at the label of his beer bottle. 

He should have done so many things differently, that it was probably the synopsis of that entire mess: what Stiles should have handled differently. 

“I know, Scotty."

Scott rolled his eyes and punched Stiles in the arm, before standing up. He gestured vaguely to the living room, and Stiles nodded, picking up more two beers in the fridge before following. Scott sprawled on the couch, and Stiles perched himself up in the back of it, feet on on the cushions. 

“How did you find out anyway?” Stiles asked, passing Scott his beer. For someone who couldn’t get drunk, he liked beers all too much. 

“Like I had to hear about this through Isaac, who found out through Erica." He explained, using his fingers to illustrate, “Apparently she asked him if he knew about Derek, and since Isaac thought it was super weird he had vanished, he came to me. Then I went to Erica, and she totally tried to mislead me, but I saw through it."

“Aw, did you go big bad alpha on her?”

“Nah, just told her I knew she was lying and all, and she spilled it." Scott touched Stiles’ knee and Stiles looked up, “She’s worried about you and Derek, y’know?”

Stiles shrugged, and said nothing, averting his eyes to a patch of slightly discolored paint on his wall. Scott sighed. 

“Bro, c’mon, level with me here. Erica told me some stuff, but I want to hear it from you."

Stiles closed his eyes, and told Scott about it, from the beginning. He told about meeting Aaron, the lies, finding out about being catfished, Derek and deceiving Derek. He went through facts in a monotone tone, feeling little throughout his retelling. It all suddenly felt distant, like something that happened to someone else, and not him. 

Scott listened to it in silence, humming and nodding at the right places. He clearly knew all of it already; his face never betrayed any surprise about what he was hearing. Scott did look worried, though, and Stiles wondered why. 

“So, that’s it. We talked and we fought, now the son of a bitch is missing, ” Stiles finished, opening his arms a little, almost spilling beer on the couch. 

“Yeah, cool. But, y’know, how about you tell me your side of stuff now?”

Stiles didn’t look at Scott. He knew better than to. Scott would puppy eye him into talking about feelings, and Stiles as allergic to that kind of thing. 

“I literally just did, Scott, keep up with the program here, ” Stiles snapped, trying to throw Scott off. 

Unfazed , Scott just nudged Stiles’ knee again, a bit harder this time. 

“Dude, c’mon."

“ _What_?”

Stiles made the mistake of looking at Scott, and he wasn’t puppy eyeing him, but he was doing the earnest gaze, and it was just as bad. Stiles groaned, resting his head on his hands, the cold beer bottle against his forehead. 

He didn’t want to talk about it. He really didn’t. Stiles wanted for Derek to come back, so he could be really angry at him, and then forget everything happened. If Derek was back, maybe he wouldn’t even scream all that much. He just needed to finish what he started. He could even wait. Derek just needed to come back. 

“Why did you decided to pretend you didn’t know shit about what Derek was doing?” Scott asked gently, but still startling Stiles out of his thoughts. 

“Because I wanted to take revenge. I told you."

“How?” Scott asked. 

“How what?”

“How did you plan to take revenge by not telling Derek for months that you knew."

This time Stiles jumped off the sofa, pacing the floor. He should have known that Erica would talk about what they had talked the day before. And of-fucking-course Scott would act like it was something it was not. 

It wasn’t. 

“Oh god, not you too." Stiles exclaimed, pointing his beer at Scott accusingly, “Erica is wrong, Lydia is wrong; just don’t even, alright!”

Scott raised both his palms up, in a placating gesture. Stiles just glared at him until he lowered his hands. 

“Bro, look. I know what Erica and Lydia said, okay? And whatever. It doesn’t matter what they think or what I think. I wanna know what you’re feeling, okay? You gotta be truthful here, with yourself."

“I am being-”

“ _Stiles_."

Stiles let out a muffled scream of frustration, and paced the floor. The truth was… The truth was that Stiles wouldn’t have minded to lose Aaron, if Aaron wasn’t Derek. If it was any other person catfishing him, Stiles wouldn’t have thought twice before putting an end to it. He would have wanted to, because catching whomever had fooled him, would have felt good. 

But it was _Derek_. 

Derek for whom Stiles had an intense, long-lasting crush. Though no, that wasn’t the truth. What he felt for Derek wasn’t a crush anymore. It was a constant in his life, tucked in the corners of his heart. It was almost part of him, a feeling that buried itself deep in Stiles’ very being. If it all started as attraction from the moment they met, it evolved from there. From the dislike mixed with sexual desire, it soon became something that else, mutual trust and tentative want. And it had been _years_ down the line, years where he got to know Derek better, where they saved each other’s lives uncountable times. Years that Stiles nursed those feelings, like a second layer under his skin. Stiles’ want for Derek was a fact, like his ADHD or that werewolves are real. 

He didn’t want to let Aaron go, because he knew it would mean letting Derek go. What did t it say about Stiles, that he was willing to overlook what Derek did, in favor of keeping a false fragment of Derek?

Stiles collapsed on the couch, burying his face on his hands. Scott made a sympathetic noise by his side, before giving a friendly tap on his back. Everything was beyond fucked up, Stiles realized, so much he didn’t even know how to start fixing things. 

“I fucked up, didn’t I?” Stiles asked, glancing at Scott, who just shrugged. 

“If it helps, Derek also fucked up. Badly."

“God, this is all a fucking mess, ” Stiles groaned, feeling too tired all of a sudden, “What do I do now? I mean, Jesus, when did my life become such a bad soap opera story?”

Scott crossed his legs on the couch, turned his body to Stiles. Stiles did the same, both of them in lotus position. It reminded Stiles so much of when they were both children, planning the plot of their adventure of the afternoon. 

“I don’t know, buddy. Look, I think you both need to talk, okay? Like, really talk, okay, for real. Because Erica gave me the impression that Derek was totally gone for you?”

“He told me that he wanted to know me better, ” Stiles gave half a smile to Scott, “that he had done it because I never gave him a chance."

Stiles wondered if it was true; it probably was. Stiles and Derek were different people. They usually went about things in different ways, and both being combative as they both were, it wasn’t much of a surprise that they fought about pretty much everything. f Stiles always saw that as a clear sign of disinterest on Derek’s side, it made sense that the opposite held true. 

God, they were both complete morons. 

Stiles threw himself forward, pretty much falling half on top of Scott, face mushed against his chest. Scott laughed, a patted Stiles on top of his head, as though to say ‘there, there. ’ They both stayed like that, Stiles toppled forward, Scott petting his head as if he was a dog, until Scott poked Stiles, asking for attention. 

“Dude, just listen to me. What Derek did is fucked up, and you gotta keep that in mind. But, I don’t know, Stiles. You need to think long and hard here about what you want and what it’s worth, because you messed things up as well. But that doesn't change the fact that Derek was an asshole, and I totally will have words with him once you two fix shit up."

Stiles laughed and righted himself. Scott looked solemn, meaning sincerely that he would have a talk with Derek about his behavior—Derek, who was older than him. Smirking, Stiles stood up and went to the kitchen again, grabbing more beers. He was starting to feel loose limbed and warm, which felt good after the last couple of days. 

“Yeah… Yeah, you’re right." Stiles acquiesced, and Scott beamed happily, “Don’t make a habit out of this, though. I’m the one who’s always right here."

“Unless it’s about Derek."

Stiles let out a startled laugh, because through true. He clinked his bottle of beer against Scott’s and smiled. 

“I’m working on changing that one."


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I’m leaving town, ” Derek ended up saying, almost uncertain. Was he?
> 
> “What? No, you’re not."
> 
> Derek tried to will Stiles into understanding his side of things. He couldn’t stay where he wasn’t wanted. And even if there was this stupid thread of hope inside his chest, Derek knew that it was useless. Maybe Stiles could forgive him – one day, maybe. Hopefully. But the rest of the pack wouldn't.
> 
> “Stiles, it’s for the better if I just go. There’s nothing for me here.”
> 
> “Shut up. Jesus Christ, just shut up before I lose my shit with you, Derek.” Stiles exclaimed, throwing Derek a warning glance. Derek shut up. “You can’t just do this, you can’t just make a mess, and then _skip town_. You don’t get to do that, leave and pretend disappearing is the best way of going. What you do is staying, and trying to fix the mess you made."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter is unbeta'ed! I'm sorry if there's any major mistyping and stuff, my computer's spell check isn't working, to top the tragedy!

Derek decided to return to his loft on the third day mostly because he needed a bath and his wallet. He also needed his clothes and to probably pack some things, maybe put the building for sale or rent it, he wasn’t sure. 

Driving non stop helped Derek thinking about some things. One of them was that there was nothing left for him in Beacon Hills, and it was time to move. Once the story about the catfishing became common knowledge, Derek would land solidly in the omega position, an unwanted one at that. It was better to leave before things got even more critical. 

If maybe the true reason was that everybody he knew would hate him and side with Stiles (with good reason), and he would rather spare himself the painful humiliation, then well, who could blame him? He might deserve it, but that didn’t mean Derek was willing to go through it. 

Derek also realized that he should have known that his attraction to Stiles would end badly. It was, from the beginning, a tragedy waiting to happen, and then it did happen. Derek should have known he would find a way to mess things up in the end; he just never expected to things to go so wrong. Derek never imagined that Stiles would go to such lengths to punish him. Even three days later, remembering their talk made something ugly and painful burn in Derek’s stomach. Shame, he imagined, humiliation, and the worst of all, his shattered hopes that maybe, just maybe, things would work out in the end. 

Parking his car in his usual spot, Derek realized that would probably be the last time he would do so. He had grown comfortable in Beacon Hills, and had never noticed it happening. At some point , it regained a sense of home he was reluctant to let go. Derek knew he had to, though, so he entered the building and went up to his apartment with a sense of finality. 

If maybe Derek had been paying attention, he would have noticed Stiles before he did. As it was, he had been distracted by his own thoughts, and he only saw Stiles when he slid the door of his loft open. 

Stiles sat on the couch, bouncing his leg continuously, while fiddling with his phone. Derek noticed his tiredness, the dark marks under his eyes and the nervous tick of his ever moving hands. He looked up the moment Derek opened the door, his amber eyes zeroing on Derek with intensity. 

“Finally, ” Stiles said, and stood up. His voice wavered, a mix of relief and anxiety, and Derek stood frozen on the doorstep."I wondered if you were going to appear today at all or if I would need to stay here one more day."

“One more day?” Derek asked, despite his wariness. He needed to leave, but he couldn’t move. 

“I’ve been here since yesterday.” Stiles shrugged, and stepped forward, “Came to wait for you. I knew you would need to come back—or I hoped you would anyway."

Stiles stopped considerably far from Derek, but that space seemed too little. Irrelevant. It didn’t matter to Derek, because he couldn’t leave. Plus, Stiles was there, and Derek had no idea what would happen now. 

Derek blinked, hesitated for a moment, before sliding the door of the loft closed. Stiles didn’t react in any way that seemed contrary to the gesture, so Derek just shut it and leaned against it. 

“I didn’t see the Jeep parked outside,” Derek said, as a question of sorts. There was no Jeep parked, he was sure. Unless Stiles had concealed the car on purpose. Which was a distinct possibility. 

“Scott drove me here. I knew you would bolt if you knew I was here, so I asked him to bring me.”

“Ah.”

They both fell into an awkward silence. Derek wondered if there was anything he should be saying. Apologies, probably, but it seemed too little, too late. Anyway, his chest was still heavy with Stiles’ words, and looking at him right there… It felt like being stabbed and _hoping_ against hope, wanting even if he knew better than to. 

Derek wanted to leave. He needed to. 

Derek moved forward, wanting to go to his nightstand and grab his things, but Stiles intercepted him, one hand raised in a gesture of wait. 

“Okay, look, I want- I _need_ you to tell me something, Derek. You kinda owe me this much, so just tell me why. Why did you do it? Gimme some reasoning here, be truthful, because you told me that you wanted to know me better, but I need to know why you needed it. Why you needed to get closer to me?”

That was the last thing Derek wanted to do, but Stiles was there, asking him to. Sure, maybe saying he owed Stiles that explanation was too much, but maybe Derek did. He licked his lips; suddenly his mouth felt too dry and his skin too tight. Maybe he was setting himself up for more humiliation, but he was leaving anyway. It didn’t matter, did it? He could literally open up and spill all his feelings on the loft’s floor; he would be long gone by the end of the day. 

Still, Derek felt like protecting himself, like denying and hiding. It was second nature, self-preservation, but for once, he went against it. 

“I guess I wanted you,” Derek said, voice rough. He didn’t see the expression Stiles had on his face; Derek was being careful to look anywhere but at him, though he heard the little intake of air."I thought doing that stupid profile was a way to get closer. Talking about what you liked."

Stiles’ heart was jackrabbiting in his chest and Derek wanted to look up, but he didn’t. He couldn’t. 

“Why lying though? Why…?” Stiles trailed off, and his voice was barely a whisper, “Why Aaron?”

“There’s no good reason. I panicked and lied once." Derek sighed. Times like this made him wish he could get drunk."I just kept lying and lying. It got out of hand, but that was never planned. Aaron. It wasn’t planned from the start."

“Wait, let me get this straight: You… You panicked about playing a game to have something to talk about with me, lied about being you, made up Aaron to save your ass?”

Derek nodded. Stiles laughed, sounding incredulous. 

“Jesus, this is so fucked up…” Stiles raised one finger, cocked his head to the side. He got this lost in thought expression, a far away look that Derek learned to appreciate with time, how Stiles could just stop moving for few seconds while his brain was obviously working at 100mph, “Wait, tell me something here. All that shit you made up for Aaron, they weren’t really lies, were they?”

Derek frowned, confused.

“What do you mean?”

Stiles made an impatient gesture, grunting while bounced his leg.

“New York, your–Aaron’s–siblings, everything you told me online. They weren’t likes. Were they?”

Startled at Stiles’ perceptiveness, Derek shook his head numbly. It wasn’t really a surprise that Stiles would connect the dots, but Derek hadn’t expected him anyway.

“I just changed some names, but- but it was mostly true. I did live in New York with Laura. My first girlfriend-”

“-Was Paige. Jesus. Fucking hell, Derek. Fucking _hell_." Stiles exclaimed, his voice violent and borderline angry. 

“I’m sorry- I…” Derek hunched a bit, and Stiles made an impatient noise. 

“No, listen. What you did was fucked up, and I need you to know that, that you can’t lie like that. You can’t, Derek—”

“I know." Derek interrupted, and Stiles made a shushing noise. 

“—no, you don’t, shut up. You can’t _lie_ like that. But. But a lot of that was _you_. You were Aaron, for real, in a lot of things. And I knew it was you anyway for longer than you tricked me. It was over. It was over for a long time, and…”

Stiles trailed off, paced around. Derek risked looking up, and Stiles was tugging his hands on his hair, making it stick on several different directions. 

“This is going to be worse than pulling a tooth out, ” Stiles muttered to himself, louder than he probably intended to, “Okay, listen here, Derek. I- I said some mean things to you, and I was angry. I say some bad shit when I’m angry, you probably noticed that by now." Stiles said, in all self-deprecation and dry humor. 

Derek snorted despite himself, because that was an understatement. Stiles went for the throat when he was angry, he held nothing back and used all his weapons without caring what kind of damage he would do. He only cared enough to hold back with Scott, maybe Lydia, definitely the Sheriff. Everyone else was a free target when Stiles was furious. Derek was, in fact, often the target. 

Stiles blew some air out, breathed deeply, and kept talking. 

“When I found out about you, I was mostly… Mostly hurt, because I couldn’t understand why you would do that to me. I kept thinking _‘why does he hate me so much? What have I done?’_ , and it was a pretty bad thing to think. And, at the same time, I was all… All- all hurt, I guess, because I’ve been entertaining all these- these feelings about you, and it was all so stupid.”

Stiles walked closer, and Derek let him. He couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe; he just stood there and listened to Stiles, eyes glued on him. 

“The shit that I hated most is that I liked you, alright. I liked you even after knowing you were an asshole. I liked you enough to go and engage Aaron more forcefully, sending all those nudes and flirting my ass off, because I knew it was _you_. And I wanted to do those things to- with you. But it had to be through Aaron. 

“But honestly, I’m only rationalizing it now. Okay, I can’t say I wasn’t aware of what I was doing; but I didn’t want to be aware, and I’m so damn good at ignoring my own shit.”

Derek gaped at Stiles, eyes wide, throat dry. He didn’t dare hope, he couldn’t really. Part of him was so inclined to just give in, but Derek wasn’t stupid, and he felt that maybe that could also be part of Stiles’ vengeance. Give him hope, draw him in, and then crush him.

He opened his mouth to brush Stiles off, end that conversation before it went badly.

“Liked?” Derek muttered, and winced. He didn’t want to know.

Stiles shrugged, flexed his long fingers in a reflexive manner.

“Like, liked, stop fishing.”

“Stiles…”

“Yeah, well, okay, like. Present tense. Maybe I could even use gerund, it’s happening, it’s continuous. Or maybe-” Stiles rambled on and on, arms waving wild, and Derek stopped him, because Stiles looked incredibly distressed, and that wasn’t what he wanted.

Derek wasn’t sure what he wanted anymore, not when things looked attainable.. 

“I got it, Stiles.” Derek interrupted, and Stiles looked at him frowning slightly, before nodding.

 

“So, yeah. Bottom line here is: I _like_ you, and I fucked up, but you fucked up too, and I’m here counting on you to feel the same way as I do, because maybe we can try and fix this. Maybe. If you want to."

Derek openly stared at Stiles, who stared back. He didn’t look like he was joking, or like he was lying, his heart was beating furiously inside his ribcage, but it had beat steady. Stiles wanted to try something, a relationship with Derek, even after everything. 

It sounded surreal. Impossible. Inadvisable. 

Derek wanted to say so many things. Like he liked (Loved, even) Stiles too. How he hated him for his deceiving. How he didn’t want to try, because they were both nutjobs, and it was certain to end in even bigger tragedy. 

“Say something here, dude, you’re killing me with the silence, ” Stiles complained, making an spasmodic gesture with his arms, like he wanted to move, but his limbs had different ideas to which direction to take. 

“I’m leaving town, ” Derek ended up saying, almost uncertain. Was he?

“What? No, you’re not."

Derek tried to will Stiles into understanding his side of things. He couldn’t stay where he wasn’t wanted. And even if there was this stupid thread of hope inside his chest, Derek knew that it was useless. Maybe Stiles could forgive him – one day, maybe. Hopefully. But the rest of the pack wouldn't.

“Stiles, it’s for the better if I just go. There’s nothing for me here.”

“Shut up. Jesus Christ, just shut up before I lose my shit with you, Derek.” Stiles exclaimed, throwing Derek a warning glance. Derek shut up. “You can’t just do this, you can’t just make a mess, and then _skip town_. You don’t get to do that, leave and pretend disappearing is the best way of going. What you do is staying, and trying to fix the mess you made.”

Derek closed his eyes, and said nothing in return. Yes, he was being a coward. But could he even be blamed? He was so tired of losing people, for once he wanted to be the one having control over how this loss goes. And Derek knew he wanted to spare himself the pain of a confrontation, but.

But Stiles was looking at him, furious, cheeks splotched red, and hair in a disarray where he had carded his fingers through it on a nervous gesture. Stiles was right. He had to stay.

“Scott–” Derek started, and Stiles talked over him.

“Is well aware of what you did. He pep talked me yesterday to come here, actually. He also said that he’s ripping you a new one once we figure our shit out, ” Stiles added and Derek blanched. Scott was nice, but he was also fiercely protective of Stiles, so Derek could only imagine what kind of talk it would be, “but honestly? He has all but giving his blessings.”

“You can’t be serious.” Derek stared at Stiles in complete disbelief

“I am,” Stiles said, completely impervious to Derek’s shock, “Lydia is angry, she’s probably going to be hell for awhile, but she’s going to get over it. Erica actually loves you, you know. So I’m pretty sure that if you left, she would go after you, and bring you back by the balls.”

It was too much. It was too absurd. It looked like things were going to be alright after all, and they never were. Not for Derek, anyway. 

“This is ridiculous.” Derek said, and he would have walked away, if he could move past Stiles.

“Why?” Stiles asked, looking genuinely confused.

Derek exploded in motion, stepping forward, throwing his hands up in the air. Stiles was insane, completely so. Everything about them was wrong; they started wrong, what good could come out of that?

“I catfished you! I _lied_ to you for months, I would keep lying if I could! And you- you lied to me…”

Stiles interrupted him, finally covering the entire distance, crowding Derek against the door. They were almost the same height, and though they were looking eye to eye, but Derek felt weirdly small. 

“Wow, you do make a good case against yourself, huh? Well, listen up: we both fucked up. I’m willing to fix it now, if you are." Stiles touched Derek’s arm, fingertips barely there, but Derek could feel them like they were ablaze against his skin."Look, I spent three, almost four days, having this incredible and weird self-realization here. I didn’t want to let you go when I found out, Derek. That was three months ago. I pretty much made a decision about it back then. And I’m not saying what you did was okay, or good, or nice or whatever, really, but I am saying that I– I forgive you. I think I did three entire months ago. I just came to accept it only now."

Indecision held Derek in place, and Stiles didn’t move. He just waited, hands on his arms. It felt like they needed to talk about so much more, like there was nothing solved. But maybe they could do it later. Together. 

“And maybe I want you to, you know, accept my apology here too,” Stiles said, looking soft, and almost fragile. Like he had been the one to actually do wrong between them. “I shouldn’t have lied. And I’m a bit sorry I was cruel. You maybe deserved it, but it didn’t mean I was right.”

There was the possibility of a together. A real one. 

Derek knocked his head against the door, once, twice, before holding Stiles, hand on his waist. Stiles leaned into the touch, and Derek felt like his heart had relocated to his throat. 

“We’re going to be awful at this, ” Derek whispered solemnly, and Stiles smirked, face so close to Derek’s he was nothing but a blur. 

“Hey, we had the worst start, ” Stiles said, lips brushing Derek’s “It only goes up from here.”

They finally kissed, and Derek felt like he was so undeserving of it all, but Stiles’ lips were warm and receptive under his, and he couldn’t deny Stiles this. He couldn’t even hate himself for caving in, not when Stiles was offering what Derek always wanted. It felt wrong that he got to have it after everything that happened, but Derek supposed that was Stiles’ decision. So he opened his mouth under Stiles’ lips, and let his tongue slide against the warmth of Stiles’ mouth, hands fisting the fabric of Stiles’ shirt. 

Stiles moaned low, and Derek pulled him closer, feeling them touching everywhere. Stiles felt like ever dreamed he would, and _better_. Derek could feel the hot trail of Stiles’ fingers even over his shirt, and it made him burn for more contact. Stiles nudged Derek’s kneed apart, and positioned his own leg between Derek’s, creating pressure in all the right places, so good, Derek couldn’t help but let out a tiny groan of pleasure.

“We should take this slow.” Derek said, breaking up the kiss. He was panting like a teenager making out in the back of his car, and the hand under Stiles’ shirt, fingers splayed over his skin, didn’t help maintaining Derek’s control. He felt feverish.

Stiles nodded, hiding his face in the crook of Derek’s neck. He rolled his hip forward, like he couldn’t help it, and Derek could feel Stiles moaning against his skin.

“We should? Oh God, this feels _good–_ You think if we fucked now, it would make things more complicated?” Stiles asked, still moving. 

Derek held his hips in place, thinking about what Stiles said. Derek didn’t know if it would make it more complicated, but he believed that they should at least try to make it as normal as they possibly could after everything they went through. They should talk, go out, _date_. Derek didn’t have the most healthy relationship history, and Stiles was painfully inexperienced in that front. THey needed to try and see if they would really connect as a couple. If they even wanted to really make this work, or if they were just desperate to make it work after everything they made each other go through. 

It didn’t matter that they already knew each other, and it certainly didn’t count that they knew a lot about each other through deception. They had to at least go and try to fix things. Make it a good relationship, and most of all, a healthy one. For both of them.

“No, but I think… I think we should give ourselves time,” Derek started, a bit startled at his own words. For once he knew he was making the genuinely right call, instead of the most convenient one for himself, “And I think I would like to start setting things, well, _right_ by taking you on a proper date.”

Stiles started open mouthed at Derek. He looked at him for a long time, lips moving soundless. He looked adorably dumbfounded, and Derek leaned in, and kissed the corner of his mouth, just because, for now, he could.

“You kidding me, right?” Stiles asked, “Oh my god, since when you’re a sensible person?”

“No, I’m not kidding. Stiles… I’m so sorry for what I did, and I think I’ll spend a long time saying I’m sorry–and it might never be enough. But I want to do this right. You deserve it. I deserve it.” Derek shrugged, and squeezed Stiles a bit, holding him close, before releasing him, “Also I am a sensible person. I just have… Moments of incredibly stupidity.”

Stiles laughed, but it wasn’t cruel or mocking, it sounded delighted. He put a tiny bit of space between their bodies, still holding Derek, but now they could talk without the overwhelming need to hump each other.

“Jesus, I should have known you were a romantic. Yeah, yeah, okay you have a point. We need to take this slow, and I’m sure we’ll fight a lot…” Stiles kissed Derek’s cheek, and it felt every bit as tentative as their kiss moments back hadn’t be. “You want this for real, don’t you?”

“I thought it was obvious.”

“Nothing is obvious with you, Derek. As much as I hate to say that, you’re right. We need to take this. We’ll need to talk a lot, and, y’know, do the communication thing, otherwise this fucked up beginning of ours will come back to bite us in the ass in the future.”

Derek smiled at the world “ _future”_ , and leaned closer, capturing Stiles’ lips again. They kissed, this time unhurriedly, exploring instead of demanding, and it felt better than anything Derek ever felt before in his life. Derek framed Stiles face with his hands, feeling the smoothness of his cheeks under his fingers.

“Good. Dinner today, then,” Derek said after they broke apart. It was maybe several minutes later, but they didn’t care, “then I’ll let myself be chewed by Scott, Lydia and Erica. And then we maybe could have a second date.”

“Second date, hm? Sounds like a plan.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And this is it! This is the last chapter! For something that was supposed to be a Tumblr fic, it became gre nicely in size, hm?
> 
>  ** _Thank you so much for reading._** I hope it was an enjoyable ride!

**Author's Note:**

> I was prompted for this fic on Tumblr ten thousand years ago (I don't remember by who, sorry!), but I never got around to finish it, mostly because it grew, and then it became angst-y (and it was supposed to be funny).
> 
> Thanks to: [Jacqui](http://captaintinymite.tumblr.com) for beta'ing my fic, [Kris](http://xixien.tumblr.com) for the help, and pretty much everybody on Sterek Writers, y'all the bestest!
> 
> Find me on [Tumblr](http://badmooonrising.tumblr.com)!


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